Exordium
by swaps55
Summary: "...there are empty spaces between the stars, a cold interstitum of utter dark, where blood runs black and monsters lurk. In the silence something broods, waits, watches. They are patient, constant, relentless. And they are far, far older than the infants now taking their first halting steps across the galactic sand." Events of ME:1. On/off screen moments, multiple POVs.
1. Chapter 1: Initium

**1. Initium**

There was a turian on board.

The _Normandy's_ crew roster had hardly been finalized before her new pilot disengaged the docking clamps and set course for Arcturus Station, where Nihlus Kryik was now waiting for them in the airlock. A turian. And not just a turian. A Spectre.

They'd pulled out of spacedock with their pants halfway around their ankles to pick up a Spectre. Shepard didn't even know the name of their navigator. _I'm meeting a Spectre before I've even met half the crew_, he thought sourly.

"What does this guy want with the _Normandy_, and why do we care?" he asked.

"Look sharp," Anderson said, tugging at the hem of his uniform. He was wearing dress blues and a posture like molded concrete, head held high and hands clasped behind his back as though bracing for a rebuke. In the years he had known Anderson, Shepard had never seen him intimidated by anyone. This Nihlus, however, seemed to have gotten under his skin without even setting foot on the ship.

The ship's VI announced the cycle was complete and opened the airlock, revealing a well-armed turian standing a shade taller than Shepard's not inconsiderable height. Over his distinctive carapace he wore black armor with subtle red striping that looked more expense than anything in the Alliance catalog. His avian features were masked by striped white clan markings that ran from his lower mandibles all the way across the top of his skull to the horned tips the crest jutting out behind his head. A set of small but salient green eyes heeded them with the ferocity of a predator. Anderson had remarked more than once that to him turians looked like the evolutionary link between dinosaurs and birds, and Shepard was forced to agree.

Nihlus stepped inside the _Normandy _with a curt nod. Anderson introduced himself and offered a dark skinned hand in greeting, which Nihlus examined almost curiously before reluctantly accepting it gingerly with his three-fingered grip. Anderson cleared his throat. "I'd like you to meet my XO, Commander Shepard."

Shepard nodded, not offering another handshake the turian clearly didn't care for. "Welcome on board the _Normandy_."

"Thank you, Commander," Nihlus said, the melodious subharmonics in his voice almost making it sound like he was harmonizing with himself. He fixed Shepard with a long, piercing look. Shepard shifted his feet, acutely uncomfortable he was in regs rather than his armor. He resisted the urge to finger his sidearm.

Anderson dismissed him quickly with orders to head to the bridge and oversee departure procedures. It was a bullshit task, since their pilot had already made it quite clear he hated having someone leering over his shoulder telling him to do his job, but Shepard seized the opportunity to escape.

Past the narrow row of haptic interfaces connecting the CIC to the bridge he could see Joker lounging in the pilot's chair, tossing a hand in the air as he tried to impress a point to Alenko, who was riding the conn and pretending to listen while casting frequent looks over his shoulder. Shepard had no doubt the lieutenant was supremely interested in their new guest.

"Doesn't matter," Joker was saying as Shepard came up behind them. "You have to have maneuverability to keep up with that whale of a drive core back there. Balance is going to be a bitch with this girl."

"Shepard!" Alenko said. Joker turned slightly in his seat and tugged at the brim of his ball cap by way of greeting. The headwear wasn't exactly standard issue, but then again neither was Joker.

"The Capitan wants you to start pre-flight checks and get ready to head for Eden Prime," Shepard told him.

Joker rolled his eyes, gesturing at his flight display. "What the hell does he think I'm doing? Not like we've been here longer than five minutes or anything. It's like we're a taxicab instead of a state of the art frigate. I need a goddamed fare meter up here."

"So?" Alenko asked. "Did you see him?"

Shepard nodded. "He's a Spectre all right. You could tell just by his armor."

That piqued his interest. Kaidan Alenko was as big of an armor snob as Shepard. "What'd he have?"

"Serrice Council, I'd bet my ass."

Alenko whistled. "Serrice Council. The dirty things I could do with one of their amps…"

"Easy now," Joker remarked.

"Anderson give you any idea why he's here?"

Shepard shook his head. "He's still sticking to the official story. Observing the Council's investment."

"Yeah, right," Joker said. "If the Council sent a Spectre all the way out here for a joyride to the Exodus Cluster then I'm a hanar. But what do I know? I'm just the pretty boy flying the ship."

Anderson had warned him about Joker's quirks. Shepard didn't mind quirks so long as the person who had them could back them up, and according to Joker's file, he could be the biggest asshole in the fleet and still be worth the trouble.

Shepard leaned over the pilot seat and looked at the view through the shutters of Arcturus's torus ring, punctuated by the winking lights and lazy glide of other starships coasting into and out of the docking facilities. "Think you can handle departure by yourself?"

Joker shot him a look of pure venom, saw the amusement on Shepard's face and rolled his eyes while making a noise of disgust. "Yeah, whatever."

"Good. Alenko, you're with me.

Alenko stood and followed Shepard back through the sweeping CIC, where the new crew buzzed around the shimmering navigational map of the galaxy at its center. In spite of his hurry he almost stopped for a moment to take it in – a ship on its maiden voyage, every bulkhead and floor tile glossy and new. Even the circulated air felt fresh. It would never be like this again.

A couple of crewmembers threw salutes Shepard's way. He returned them brusquely, hoping no one addressed him directly.

"What's up?" Alenko asked.

"Crew roster," he said under his breath, casting a quick glance at the unknown navigator, an older, balding man standing on the podium at the apex of the map. "I need to know what the hell everyone's name is before I make an ass of myself."

He knew without having to ask that Alenko had already memorized not only the names and ranks but pertinent details from the files of most everyone on board.

"Yes sir," Alenko said solemnly.

Shepard was positive he'd been the kid in school who always did his homework and raised his hand to answer a question. He was three year's Shepard's senior, but the thick-haired, clean-shaven lieutenant was often mistaken for younger. Shepard was not above shoving rank in his face whenever he mentioned it.

Anderson and Nihlus had disappeared, presumably to the comm room tucked behind the CIC. Shepard headed down one of the twin curved staircases behind the galaxy map that led down to the crew deck. The mess tables behind the cargo elevator were nearly deserted, so Shepard slid into an empty chair and gestured for Alenko to do the same. Behind the stanchion dividing the mess from the crew area he could see the long hall of sleeper pods, red light refracting off their plastic cowling. He grimaced. Cramming yourself into a vertical pod to sleep wasn't something he'd gotten used to, even if it wasn't as bad as it looked.

A couple of crewmen filtered past, either looking for the aft terminals near the sleeper pods or the port side lockers by the med bay. The ship's doctor, an aristocratic woman with short, immaculate hair the color of chalk, stood at the door directing two servicemen delivering supplies. Chakwas, Shepard thought her name was. Anderson knew her from some past assignment.

The nice thing about Alenko being the only other familiar face besides the Captain was that he was a fellow marine. Like most ships, the _Normandy _had a handful of marines to go along with the naval officers. Regardless of rank or personality there was always that moment when the invisible lines separating the two were crossed for the first time. Sometimes it was without incident, and the blended lines stayed blended. Other times they were quickly redrawn and dug in like trenches. You never knew what it was going to be until it happened. Shepard was secretly curious how having a marine XO would go over.

"Ok," Shepard said, chair creaking in protest as he settled into it. The downside of a brand new ship was that nothing had been broken in. "The navigator. Who is he?"

"Charles Pressly," Alenko replied without hesitating, confirming Shepard's assumption. "He's good."

"Served with him?" Shepard pulled a datapad out of one of the cargo pockets in his pants and made a note he would never look at.

He shook his head. "He comes from the _Agincourt_. Earned his commission after the Blitz."

Shepard glanced up sharply. "He was at Elysium?"

Alenko nodded, his expression guarded. Shepard leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. "Okay," he said after a few moments.

Alenko looked like he was on the verge of saying something more, but changed his mind. "Chief Engineer is Greg Adams. I'm not sure there's a class of starship he hasn't served on. Think he could get this table to hit FTL speeds if we asked him. His service record is a mile long. We're in pretty good hands."

"Good," Shepard said. "Because I have to admit this IES thing makes me a little uncomfortable. Call me paranoid, but I just don't love giving ourselves yet another way to fry inside our own hull."

Alenko's bemused expression made Shepard grunt. In many ways the dark-haired lieutenant was Shepard's polar opposite. Alenko was an easygoing, by the book tech nerd who had an irritating knack for taking whatever life threw at him in perfect stride, digesting each experience in a way that left him obnoxiously self-adjusted. Shepard on the other hand was just as likely to blow right past rules and regs without pausing to notice they were even there, and tended to assume most problems could be solved easily enough with a few well-placed bullets. It was part of why he'd been shipped off to special ops in the first place. The Alliance seemed to conclude that armor, a good gun and something to shoot at was the best way to handle him, and Shepard had no interest in disputing it.

"What about the other guy on the ground team?" Shepard asked.

"Jenkins?" Alenko asked. "Yeah, Richard Jenkins. He just made corporal. Never been in the field."

Shepard groaned.

Alenko slid a datapad across the table to him and tapped its glassy surface. "It might not be that bad. Check out his proficiency scores."

Shepard snatched the pad, giving Alenko a suspicious look. "How did you get these?"

"I was…curious?"

"Remind me to change the encryption protocols on my credit account."

"Nothing in there worth taking, Commander."

Shepard waved him off with a grumble. "Anything else I need to know about this guy?"

"He's from Eden Prime. Parents are farmers." Again he gave Shepard that careful, calculated look. Shepard maintained a neutral expression and looked back over the test scores, wondering if Anderson and Commander Stevens, his first CO, had had a similar discussion when Shepard's file had first come across Steven's desk.

"Yeah," he said, then trailed off. Almost subconsciously, he checked the status of the kid's immediate family. Still alive and working in Shiloh, a rural district outside Constant. That was one difference between them at least.

"Shepard," Alenko asked hesitantly.

"Mm?"

"This entire roster was handpicked by Captain Anderson."

Shepard had an idea what was coming. "He wanted the best. Ship's a prototype and from the sounds of it the Alliance spent a fortune to build it. Makes sense you want your best people on it."

"Then…how did _I_ end up here?"

"Don't sell yourself short, Kaidan."

"I'm not," Alenko insisted. "Just wondering how I ended up on Anderson's radar."

Shepard rubbed his thumb absently across his chin, suddenly conscious that he needed a shave. "Anderson wanted a good ground team. Told me to recommend someone, since they were going to be my men anyway."

"Thanks, Shepard," he said after a lengthy pause.

"I wanted someone I could trust," Shepard informed him. "And now that I know our third squad mate is probably still a virgin, you better make me look good. Especially since we apparently have to impress a Spectre."

Alenko looked thoughtful. "Why do you think he's here?"

They both paused as a young private passed by on his way to one of the terminals near the sleeper pods. Alenko nodded pleasantly, then they both lowered their voices.

"No idea," Shepard said, "but Joker's right. A Council rep is one thing, but this is a Spectre. Which means it's got to be more than a routine maiden voyage to Eden Prime."

"You've served with Anderson before, haven't you? Any insight at all?"

Shepard shook his head. "Never served with him, actually."

This took Alenko by surprise. "But you know each other."

"He's…given me a hand here and there." Shepard hoped Alenko would leave it at that, and he did. It was one reason they got along so well – each knew when to prod and when to let things go. Elaborating on his relationship with Anderson would involve getting into things he didn't feel like dredging up.

"_Shepard_._"_

Shepard jumped a little at the sound of Anderson's voice over the comm. "Sir?"

"_Meet me in my quarters. There's something we need to discuss."_

The Captain's quarters were a stone's throw away from the mess on the starboard side of the ship. Without a word Alenko rose, nodded to Shepard and headed back to the bridge. Anderson passed him at the bottom of the stairwell, reached his quarters in a few swift strides and gestured for Shepard to head inside.

The _Normandy _Captain's quarters were surprisingly spacious, but sparsely furnished. Based on Anderson's various offices, several of which Shepard had found himself in over the years, sometimes willingly and sometimes not, they were likely to stay that way. Shepard thought of the sleeper pods and felt a mild stab of jealousy.

Anderson came to a halt just inside the door. Years of military service were firmly etched in the weathered lines of his face. He gave Shepard a long, hard look, brow deeply furrowed. Shepard's eyebrow twitched.

"Nihlus is here to evaluate you," Anderson said by way of greeting. Shepard blinked.

"Evaluate me for what?" he asked. "What does the Council care about an Alliance commander?"

Anderson inhaled deeply. "The Citadel ambassador has been lobbying for more human involvement in interstellar policymaking. One of the things he's after is naming a human to the Spectres."

Spectres. The elite, right arm of the council. Their reputation made Shepard's N7 designation look nominal. Spectres answered to no one. They did quietly what the Council could not do publicly. There was a reason no one wanted one around.

Becoming one was a coveted honor, one rarely bestowed.

"Why hide it from me?" Shepard demanded.

Anderson worked his jaw a little. There was that odd expression again, the same one Shepard had seen when Nihlus had arrived. "Because politics is not your forte, and this is a political minefield."

He'd been planning this. Shepard thought back to their vid conversation before his posting on the _Normandy_. Perhaps he didn't know the Captain as well as he thought.

"Eden Prime is more than a shakedown run," Anderson went on.

"Clearly."

"They found a prothean beacon down there. Intact. The Alliance is sending us to extract it and bring it to the Citadel for study."

"Prothean?" Shepard frowned. Suddenly sending a stealth ship made a lot more sense.

Anderson nodded. "The last time we found working prothean technology we wound up discovering mass effect drives. So I don't think I need to reiterate how important this is."

Shepard crossed his arms. "I'm guessing Nihlus wants to see me do more than pick up a beacon."

"It'll be the first of several missions," Anderson agreed. "Given your involvement at Elysium and your personal history, I think you've more than proved yourself." Shepard noted he had not mentioned Torfan. He decided not to ask why.

"But the Council wants an eyewitness account from one of their own," he went on, "so you're going to give it to them."


	2. Chapter 2: Subitus

**2. Subitus**

Ashley Williams flipped a card onto the table and smirked as Yvetz swore. "Thank you for the credits, private."

The surly weapons specialist muttered under his breath and chucked his cards at her. She picked them up one by one, making a face at the grease marks from his fingers. "Wash your hands every now and then, Yvetz. Grease monkey isn't meant to be taken literally."

"Says the girl whose shotgun is cleaner than her fingernails."

She flipped him the bird, determined not to look at her hands. "You need a girl with dirt under her nails."

"Is that an offer?"

For just a moment she imagined the oily-haired, middle-aged, thick-fingered Yvetz without a shirt on and resisted the urge to laugh. "If you mean an offer to introduce your balls to my foot, sure."

That got a chortle from Bourdelle, a barrel-chested black Frenchman sitting to Ashley's left. Though Bourdelle looked like he should be off in some pit wrangling varren with his bare hands, he somehow managed to embody the collective disdain of his home country, and since his posting on Eden Prime had been directing every ounce of it at Yvetz. Ashley had once asked him if he pissed wine and shat cheese, and he'd taken it as a compliment.

She split the deck and fanned the worn edges with her thumbs. When she was ready to deal the next hand, McIllheney, the fourth marine at the table, snatched each of his cards like they were trying to bite him. He'd lost every hand, and it hadn't improved the dour mood he'd walked in with.

The four of them were killing time before the start of second shift. It was Ashley's first week off third shift, and it still felt weird to make rounds in daylight. The lounge was a totally different place with sun streaming through the broad paned windows. It made her realize how filthy the floors were.

"You ever get that Titan's targeting matrix sorted out?" McIllheney asked as he scrutinized his hand. McIllheney was a sniper, and the new Titan rifles they'd gotten a few days ago were faulty. He was getting itchy.

"It was a problem with the hardsuit sync," she mused, eyes flicking over to Yvetz to look for his tell. "Bhatia flashed the COS and is re-programming them all. Assuming Grease Monkey over there gets them all field tested you should have it in a few days."

Yvetz shot her a dark look.

Sonsini, the operations chief in charge of their platoon, stuck his head in the room. Sonsini was an ok guy. He was pushing forty but still bound and determined to earn an officer's commission. Like Ashley, he wanted berth on a starship so bad he could taste it, but kept getting shafted groundside to twiddle his thumbs and bark at marines who rarely ever got to do more than a few controlled drills. But he kept at it, and his last name wasn't Williams. That was good news for him, all the more depressing for her. If Sonsini was trying this hard and couldn't get it done, she didn't have a chance in hell.

It was normal to see Sonsini all business, but there was something else in his face that made Ashley sit up before he even spoke. "On your feet, marines," he ordered. "Comm systems just went down. We're on patrol."

The four of them abandoned the cards on the table and headed to their weapons lockers without asking questions. A post on Eden Prime was little more than babysitting colonists, but they were still well-trained Alliance marines. Within minutes she was pulling on the boots of her armor, a medium weight Phoenix hardsuit, and sliding a Lancer loaded with a fresh ammo block into the holster on her back. Sirta Foundation had just approved the paperwork for the Phoenix and she hadn't had much chance to test it. She swiftly knotted her dark hair into a bun and pulled her helmet on, grinning as she synced the weapons suite to the arsenal riding on her back. This thing could kick the ass of her old Mantis suit.

"Sit rep?" she asked.

"Unknown," Sonsini replied. "Comm systems just went dead. Muneio ordered the 212 out to patrol the area and stay on high alert."

"Is it just Arcadia?" Arcadia was an agricultural settlement south of Constant no one had heard of until a soil reclamation team had stumbled upon a prothean beacon two weeks ago. Next thing Ashley knew a ship had shown up to drop off a bunch of scientists that had been swarming the area ever since. Most of her unit had been diverted to keeping a close eye on it. A glance at her HUD chronometer told her Hudson's platoon was on duty right now.

Sonsini shook his head. "Planet wide."

Now she understood the look on his face. Local comm failure was usually just a mechanical issue. A planet wide communication blackout meant an attack. Her gut twisted, though she couldn't tell if it was from fear or exhilaration.

Sonsini had found a working radio and was talking to Lieutenant Muneio, commander of the unit, as the second platoon assembled. First platoon was out with the beacon, third platoon was getting roused from their bunks and assembling in front of the barracks.

A boom that sounded like thunder took them all by surprise. Ashley craned her neck to the sky, wondering if the atmospheric circulators had gone haywire along with the comms. Angry whorls of black cloud had formed in the direction of Constant, almost like the funnel of a tornado.

Ashley frowned. Using the sensor suite in her hardsuit she scoped in on the disturbance. There was something in it. An oblong ship descended through the turbid clouds. It was massive, shaped of all things like a cuttlefish, with a broad spine and hooked appendages near the bow that grasped for purchase as it sank almost gracefully towards the ground like a spider on a thread of silk.

It was too big to even be entering the atmosphere. According to her suit it was a staggering two kilometers long, making it easily longer than any dreadnaught in the Alliance fleet, and probably any other fleet for that matter. Its effortless descent should have been impossible – unless the ship had no plans to leave again. A chill ran down her back.

The wind, still just a few moments ago, began to whip and wail. From the cancerous clouds came several flashes of movement followed by the throbbing of engines powering through atmosphere. Fighters? They sounded too big for that. But whatever they were, they were gunning south.

Sonsini, who had stopped for a moment to gape with the rest of them, began shouting into his radio and pressing it closer to his ear in an effort to hear.

Ashley squinted to make out the incoming vessels. They were large, almost the size of frigates, shaped like wingless insects with beady heads and short, flexible claws hanging from their elongated abdomens. The design was unlike that of the dreadnaught ship, but strangely reminiscent of it. The sheer strangeness of it was almost enough to overcome fear. _What the hell_? Known ship designs began running through her head. Turian, salarian, batarian, even asari... only quarian bore even the slightest resemblance, and that was to the smaller ships, not the brute now looming over Constant.

"Form up!" Sonsini bellowed. "We move out towards the beacon dig site!"

"Beacon?" Ashley said, unable to shut her mouth in time. "What about the colony!"

The dreadnaught opened fire.

They could hear it all the way in Arcadia, a high powered whine accompanied by a ray of red energy that flicked almost casually outward from one of the bow arms. Still scoped, Ashley watched in horror as the upper portion of Prosperity Tower in the center of Constant was shorn completely away.

"Move it!" Sonsini bellowed.

The dig site was six kilometers from the barracks across undeveloped swampland near a dry riverbed, and they were forced to go on foot. Between the influx of scientists and the platoon already there on patrol, there were no vehicles in the vicinity they could use. Second platoon of the 212 went south at the kind of pace usually reserved for disciplinary drills. The makeshift road they had made to allow easier access to the site was little more than an uneven dirt path.

They had not even closed half of the distance when one of the insect ships blasted over their heads, clearly heading to the same destination. Ashley watched it break with surprising agility, vertical thrusters firing a quick orange burst to allow it to descend. _Dropship_, she realized. They were about to see their attackers face to face. _Good,_ she thought, gripping her gun tighter. Sonsini came to the same conclusion and brought them to a halt, sending Ashley, McIllheney and Private Dakin to form a right flank where they could follow a ridge overlooking the site. Yvetz, Oriaki and Geddelstein were sent to the higher elevation on their left. Sonsini, Bourdelle and the remaining four members of the platoon braced for a frontal assault. At least they had terrain to their advantage; the site sat down in a shallow valley that would give them the high ground.

Dakin and McIllheney followed her lead. They jogged in silence over the soggy soil, the only sound they made coming from the subtle creak of their armor joints. The ridge was narrow and their going was slower than she anticipated, but the way was clear.

The dreadnaught was still firing. Ashley isolated the audio feed inside her helmet and deactivated it, unable to think about the chaos unfolding in Constant. Instead she called up the thirty six transponder signals in her HUD that represented the 212 and tagged the members of her platoon.

"You seen anything like that ship before?" Dakin whispered.

"Quiet, marine," she hissed back, partially out of fear they would give away their position and partially because she was afraid of the answer. _No. I've never seen it before. And humanity does not have a great track record with first contact, especially when a Williams is involved._

They made it another kilometer before she thought something was wrong. Her HUD remained empty of any possible hostiles, but suddenly Bordelle's marker registered a hardsuit breach.

"The hell," she breathed, wondering if there was some quirk in the Phoenix's software. But Dakin and McIllheney stopped short. They'd seen it too. Before she could query the sensor configurations, Bourdelle's hardsuit signature dropped off the grid entirely. She gestured madly for McIllheney and Dakin to move. The 212 was under attack from something that didn't register on their sensors.

"_Hostiles!" _

Sonsini's voice erupted over the comm in her helmet. The feed exploded with chatter, the entire unit reporting some variation of the same. Her HUD reported sustained weapon fire at the dig coordinates. Ashley spurred the other two men on as six other hardsuit signatures winked out. _What the hell is happening?_ Finally they crossed a tree line and the site came into view down and to their right. McIllheney swore. It was swarming with hostiles all right, but Ashley immediately noted they weren't human. They weren't even _organic_.

Her marines were being mowed down by bipedal machines. Not mechs – their fluid, deft movements were far too sophisticated for that. These things were tall and sleek, with none of the fumbling awkwardness of a security mech. Their bodies were covered with segmented cowling connected by intricate, flexible tubing. A bright, blue light gleamed from the center of their faces like a flashlight. All of them carried pulse rifles that sprayed an oscillating whine of bullets. As was rapidly becoming painfully clear, they had the reflexes of an organic and the accuracy of a VI. Except Ashley was suddenly convinced they were not VIs.

It took her a moment to notice a series of tall metal spikes that had been set up around the perimeter of the dig site. After a closer look she realized some of them had _people_ on them, impaled right through the chest. Bile rose in the back of her throat.

"Chief!" McIllheney yelled and pointed at something making its way up the ridge.

"Bordelle?" Ashley said in surprise, then gasped.

It wasn't Bordelle anymore.


	3. Chapter 3: Viventes Machina

**3. Viventes Machina**

"Reverse and hold at 38.5."

Shepard glowered at the vidscreen, where the colossal dreadnaught hung frozen over the skyline of Eden Prime. The lower flaps of Nihlus's mandible quivered. The three of them stood in the _Normandy's_ large, oval comm room, where the bright fluorescent lighting etching the borders of the viewscreen made Shepard wince. A few minutes ago it had been just a routine mission briefing.

A scar tracing the curve of his left ribcage began to burn. Idly his right hand crept up to scratch at it.

Anderson looked grim. "How long until we reach Eden Prime?"

"_We're seventeen minutes out, sir," _Joker reported over the comm.

"Engage the IES once we reach Utopia. Take us in fast and quiet." He turned to Shepard and Nihlus. "Looks like things just got a little more complicated."

"Our first priority is to secure the beacon," Nihlus said.

Shepard bristled, a sea of colonist faces swimming up into the forefront of his brain. The same names, same faces that always emerged when a colony got hit, and the same choler that accompanied them. He understood turian militarism better than most, but sometimes the cold calculus that saved some as easily as it condemned others made his teeth itch. Sometimes it was just goddamned personal.

"Commander."

Shepard shifted his gaze from the Spectre to his CO, who knew exactly where Shepard's thoughts had gone.

"Suit up," Anderson said, his rich baritone voice carrying an edge as sharp as a knife. "Get Alenko and Jenkins and meet us in the cargo hold. We need to figure out what the hell is going on down there."

* * *

Engineer Adams engaged the IES as soon as Joker completed their breaking burn to Eden Prime. No time like the present to see if the stealth system actually worked. If it didn't, this would be the shortest mission of Shepard's career.

Eden Prime was home to just shy of four million people, about half of which lived in Constant, a flourishing, urban capitol center. The rest were strewn throughout smaller agriculturally driven settlements in the surrounding valleys and grasslands, all connected by an extensive, state of the art monorail system. The beacon was somewhere on the outskirts of the southernmost settlement. Pressly had identified a drop point a few kilometers southeast of the beacon's reported coordinates near some undeveloped swampland.

Alenko and Jenkins were already waiting in the cargo bay, Jenkins fiddling with his standard issue Hahne-Kedar assault rifle and looking like he might throw up. Shepard felt a pang of sympathy. About ten minutes ago Jenkins thought he was getting a homecoming. He checked the heat sinks on his own assault rifle and hefted it over his back until he felt it catch in the holster next to his sniper. After a moment's hesitation he grabbed the Katana. In his experience a shotgun was never a bad idea. His sidearm was already secure on his belt, alongside a pouch of grenades.

Shepard liked to be prepared.

Joker announced over Shepard's comm that a handful of shuttles were fleeing to orbit.

"_They're all pinging the comm buoys but getting no response. Tightbeam communications don't seem affected. Lots of ship to ship chatter."_

"Maintain comm silence," Anderson ordered, stepping off the cargo bay elevator with Nihlus. "We can't take any chances on giving away our position."

"_Aye, sir."_

The people on the shuttles had probably run out of instinct, though Shepard couldn't help but wonder if they hadn't engineered a worse fate for themselves. When that dreadnaught decided to leave, chances were they would be picked off one by one with no way to defend themselves. At least groundside there was a chance they could wait it out. How it had shut the buoys down was unknown, and currently not something he could worry about.

Shepard adjusted the shoulder guard of his armor, flicking a gloved finger at a new scuff in the signature N7 red stripe. At least he had an Onyx hardsuit and didn't have to deal with the baseline Hydra shit that Jenkins was stuck with. It was only one of many perks that came with being special ops, but it was a good one.

He ran systems checks on his HUD. Weapons suite, kinetic barriers, life support systems and navigation flashed green. Shepard programmed a link to the hardsuit signatures of Alenko and Jenkins, then tested the connection once the query was acknowledged. Their bio readings displayed dutifully in the lower left corner of his field of vision. He glanced up to see Alenko tap the back of his neck, double checking his amp. When you didn't know who your enemy was, it was always nice to have someone who could throw out a biotic punch, and Alenko had one hell of a left hook.

The inertial dampeners whined briefly when the _Normandy_ hit atmosphere. Shepard laid an arm against a bulkhead to steady himself until the ride smoothed out.

Nihlus edged closer to the cargo door.

"Leaving early?" Shepard asked.

"I've sent a second set of coordinates to your pilot," he responded. "No offense, commander, but I work better on my own. I'm heading to the closest monorail station to evaluate the situation. You head for the dig site. I'll meet you there."

The cargo bay door lowered. A blast of hot air rolled over them. The smell of burnt ozone permeated the rapidly thickening haze. The _Normandy _skimmed over broken grasslands, and through the murk they could see the clustered skyscrapers of Constant rising in the distance, wreathed in black smoke. Clamped to one of the remaining towers, clinging by the strange appendages of its lower torso, was the dreadnaught, almost too big to be believed. Shepard pondered the distant monster. Cuttlefish was an awfully benign descriptor for something so terrifying, but he had long ago learned that when you started poking under the rocks of the galaxy, you rarely found things matched up the way you thought they should.

"Remember," Anderson told them. "The beacon is your top priority. Assist where you can, but that's a secondary objective."

Shepard nodded.

"_Approaching drop point one,"_ Joker reported over the comm.

Nihlus jogged to the end of the ramp, gun drawn. He waited for the _Normandy_ to slow, then jogged to the end of the ramp and was gone. Shepard, Alenko and Jenkins approached the door and waited for the second drop point.

"Good luck, Shepard," Anderson said.

Shepard's boots hit the soft ground with a squelch. The _Normandy_ coasted away, angling back up towards the atmosphere, silent as a ghost and invisible to anyone not looking out a window. Around them the air was still but heavy; his hardsuit recorded more humidity and higher temperatures than normal with an abnormal concentration of particulates. Northward the swampy ground elevated and gave way to shallow hills broken by a handful of trees and stone outcrops. Further ahead he could see the colony edifices – even from a distance it looked like this area had been hit hard. Small winks of light indicated that some of them at least still had power, but others were dark. _What kind of ground troops are we dealing with? _Shepard wondered. Had the ship done all of this, or was there an army on foot that they were going to have to contend with?

A soft moan from Jenkins filtered over his comm. Shepard gritted his teeth. He knew better than anyone how little the sims meant when your shields were one mass accelerator slug from failure and the life of your squad hung in the balance. Sympathy notwithstanding, the last thing Shepard wanted was to find out now that Jenkins couldn't cut it.

Thank God for Alenko, at least. Shepard had served with a lot of men, but none of them had the level head he kept on his shoulders. Through his faceplate Alenko appeared relaxed but ready, his lean frame coiled tighter than a spring. A soldier's discipline and a biotic metabolism made him light and fast, but that wasn't what made him dangerous. There was something far deadlier under Alenko's skin than the pistol he held in his hand, and it had saved Shepard's ass more than once. Where Alenko was quick and controlled Shepard was a demagogic force, with a tendency to use his broad frame as a battering ram, firm in his belief he could take down an enemy through sheer force of will.

They crested a ridge that looked down on a basin dotted with shrubby trees and smudges of white, exposed rock. HUD still showed no hostiles, but no additional Alliance-coded hardsuit signatures either. To their left a few gasbags hovered over a stagnant pond. The atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it was sitting on his shoulders. Shepard could already feel beads of sweat forming.

The settlement was close enough to see black smoke gasping from the fractured bones of a tower.

"Who did this?" Jenkins breathed. "So much so fast…"

Jenkins had no idea how fast a colony could go from safe haven to ash. Shepard didn't want him to have to find out.

Alenko said started to say something but Shepard waved them silent, crept a little farther up the path and listened. The flesh on the back of his neck rippled as the hairs stood on end. His HUD still insisted the way was clear. He raised his weapon anyway. Leaves in a nearby tree fluttered. Something was there.

A high energy phasic slug punched through the air, refracting off Jenkins' shields with a sharp hiss, sending him reeling backwards and groping for balance. Shepard barked at everyone to take cover, his targeting system automatically kicking in and tracking the source of the attack.

Four synthetic drones dove at them from the trees like angry wasps, firing pulse weapons while madly dancing back and forth to avoid target lock. Shepard jagged to the right and shot from the hip in an attempt to distract them long enough for Alenko to get a bead. Two shots ricocheted off his kinetic barriers with a bright crackle, momentarily throwing him off balance. His hardsuit alarms pinged a warning as one of the slugs soaked up the charge from his shields faster than his suit could replenish it. He hit the ground shoulder first and rolled.

Something was very wrong. Normal drones just fired dutifully when something entered their visual range and maybe flitted around a bit to make it interesting. These drones were executing a coordinated attack.

Jenkins fired and missed, but Alenko lobbed a tech mine that exploded in mid-air with a shriek of electricity that leapt from one drone to the next like chain lightning. The drones shuddered, sparked, then dropped and lay motionless. Without a word Alenko offered his hand and pulled Shepard back to his feet. His expression was dark. Jenkins stood a few feet away, visibly shaken. His shield had taken a few hits but was slowly regenerating back to full strength. Shepard brushed at a new singe mark on his chest plate near the shoulder joint. His shields had drained most of the force of the impact, but he could feel a gentle throb at the site of impact.

"What…?" Jenkins started.

"Those weren't Alliance," Alenko said, and now there was a chill in his voice.

Damn straight they weren't. The attack had been too sophisticated, too accurate. "Keep your eyes open," Shepard told them. "We have to get to that dig site. Alenko, can you adjust the sensor suite to scan for drones?"

His omnitool had already flared to life, the golden glow of the nearly transparent haptic glove reflecting off his faceplate. "Working on it, sir. Also trying to increase the range a little."

"Good call with the grenades," Shepard said after a moment. Sometimes he forgot how good Alenko was with electronic countermeasures.

"Figured you wanted your head."

Shepard's comm crackled with Nihlus's voice. _"Shepard."_

"Go ahead."

"_I'm near the monorail depot. Lots of bodies, but not many hostiles. Mostly drones. Whatever happened, it looks like most of the attackers have moved out."_

"We've encountered a few drones ourselves, but no other hostiles. We're nearing the dig site."

"_I'll be there when I can. Keep me informed." _

Shepard's HUD flickered for a moment as Alenko uploaded the combat scanner upgrade. Red markers sprang up to the northwest – near the beacon coordinates. But with the extended range Alenko had managed to scrounge up he was also reading Alliance hardsuit signatures. "Friendlies," Shepard said urgently. "Move out!"

It didn't take long to find them.

The remnants of an Alliance platoon were headed right for them in full retreat. Shepard prepared to put down some suppressive fire to take the heat off their backs, but once he saw their attackers his finger froze on the trigger.

_Synthetics?_

The silver skinned machines mercilessly pursued the soldiers who were still on their feet, not, Shepard noted, firing to kill. They were incapacitating as many as they could, then dragging them over to low-set, flat-topped tripods. Or so they appeared.

At the touch of a button a giant spike speared the still-living soldiers right through the gut and carried them screaming into the sky. Shepard's skin went cold.

One soldier had escaped, running for her life up the hill. Hearing a drone overhead she dropped and rolled, screaming as she fired her shotgun. The slug pinged off the drone's metal hide and sent it spinning. But three of the synthetics were closing rapidly, and she had nowhere to go. With a quick glance at Alenko and Jenkins, Shepard opened fire.

The machines were not expecting reinforcements. Neither was the Alliance solider, who dove out of the way behind a rock.

The synthetics whirred and clicked in metallic consonance. Alenko palmed another tech mine and launched it, but the angry chatter of overheating weapons that Shepard was expecting never came. There was no time to wonder why. Shepard drew his shotgun and launched out of cover, barreling towards the three closest hostiles and pumping a round right into the head of the leader. Its harmonious clicking became a squeal as a viscous white fluid spurted from the hole Shepard had put in the blue light of its face. He slammed a forearm into the neck of the one to his left, then drove the barrel of his gun upwards, the force snapping its head backwards so that it hung by a handful of sparking wires.

Too late did he realize that he'd left his back open to the third. With an organic enemy he would have had time to defend himself, but in a painful moment of clarity he realized these things had already adjusted to his attack before he'd even thrown the punch.

Every hair on his body stood on end as the air around him yawned and stretched. A blue vortex of dark energy bloomed around the synthetic, lifting it effortlessly into the air where it dangled helplessly. Shepard shunted a new round into the shotgun's chamber and fired it into the machine's chest, watching in satisfaction as the impact of the slug combined with the power of the biotic field sent it careening backwards with such force that it smashed to pieces on a rock.

Jenkins and the Alliance soldier had opened fire on the rest, and soon all that was left in the clearing was billowing smoke and sputtering chunks of machinery mixed with the acrid tang of scorched metal.

Shepard looked back at Alenko. He couldn't see much through the faceplate, but his curled fists and rooted stance told him what he needed to know. "Thanks," he said. Alenko nodded. Shepard had a feeling he would catch grief later for blindly charging a trio of killer machines.

The surviving soldier approached Shepard, breathing heavily but still on her feet. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212," she said, managed. "Thank you, sir."

Shepard scrutinized her. She sounded weary but pissed off. Pissed off was good. He was pretty sure they were going to need it. "Are you wounded, Williams?"

"No, sir. But my platoon…" She glanced apprehensively up at the spikes.

"What happened?"

He had to give her credit at how quickly she composed herself. "They came out of nowhere," she said. "Cut our communications and knew exactly where to hit us. I think they wanted the beacon."

Shepard started a little. What the hell would machines want with a prothean beacon?

"Who are they?" Jenkins asked, more shaken than she was.

"I think they're geth sir," she said, meeting Shepard's gaze unflinchingly.

_Geth_. The word was so seldom heard at first it didn't even sound familiar. To anyone outside the quarian fleet the geth were little more than mythology, a cautionary tale the Council used to threaten anyone who got it in their heads that AIs were a good idea.

Alenko frowned. "Geth? But they haven't been outside the veil in over 200 years."

Williams shrugged. "All I know is what I saw. They took down every goddamned member of my unit. They're way too advanced to be VIs, and unless there's a race of AIs out there that we don't know about, that leaves the geth."

There was something about their shape reminiscent of the quarians, Shepard acknowledged. At any rate, it was the best explanation they had. Shepard eyed her carefully, trying to gauge how resilient she was. Having someone along who knew the layout would make getting to the beacon a lot easier. "We need to get to the beacon."

"Not without me," she vowed. "These goddamned flashlight heads aren't going to get off without a few parting shots from the 212."

Shepard smiled. He liked Williams.

"When comms were cut we were sent to the dig site to protect the beacon, but it wasn't there," she told them. "Apparently first shift got orders to escort it to the monorail depot for extraction, but the comms were down before the rest of us found out."

_Monorail depot_, Shepard thought. _Nihlus. _

There was a metallic snick as one of the spikes, which Shepard had almost forgotten about and Williams was deliberately trying to ignore, retracted. "Commander," Jenkins called. "I think you need to look at this."

Shepard craned his head to get a better look. The body on the spike looked human in that it had two arms, two legs, and a human-shaped skull, but that was where the similarities ended. The body had been…changed somehow, stripped down, mechanized. Ropes of synthetic cord protruded from the cheekbones and traced the contours of its neck before they plugged into the exposed ribcage, which was lit from within by a sickly blue glow. The same light oozed from its empty, hollow eye sockets. What had been human was now little more than a husk.

It moved.

Shepard yelled, but it was too late. Jenkin's curiosity had overcome his caution, and he had lowered his weapon. With lethal quickness the husk's hands shot forward and shattered Jenkins' faceplate. He screamed. Shepard spurred into action, but it was horribly too late. Jenkins' scream grew louder, filled with terror and pain as the blue lit fingers reached for his eyes and dug deep.

With a deep throated yell of grief Williams poured bullets into the shambling monster, disintegrating it into a tangle of gore and oily fluid. Jenkins crumpled to the ground. Alenko skidded towards him, but they quickly realized they had bigger problems.

More of the same creatures began to animate, climbing down from the spikes like a mad, undead army.

_This can't be real,_ Shepard thought, and opened fire.


	4. Chapter 4: Proditor

4. Proditor

Nihlus lowered the smoking barrel of his assault rifle, calmly wiping threads of milky white conductive fluid off the front of his armor. The geth carcass at his feet jerked, sparked, then lay still. Half a dozen other metallic corpses were similarly strewn about the platform of the monorail station. According to his omnitool scans this was the last station on the southern line, little more than a cargo port built to facilitate supply shipments and exports from area farmers. Between the platform and the modular units on the overlooking hill there was a wide swath of brutal but methodical violence. Someone had been looking for something.

_Geth._ He cast his gaze north, where the dreadnaught still perched eerily in the distance, the flickers of red light encircling its hull bright enough to cut through the swirling murk. Was it possible that out there beyond the Perseus Veil the geth had developed so wildly beyond everyone's imaginations that they were capable of something like _that_?

He surveyed the platform of the monorail station. Unorganized piles of crates had been indiscriminately shoved aside, as if someone had hastily cleared a path for something large. _The beacon. _It hadn't been at the dig site where they expected. The Alliance marines had most likely been moving it to the _Normandy_ rendezvous location.

The _Normandy_. Nihlus was forced to admit the turian design influence worked well on the human ship, but it was still an odd move by the Council to make such an investment in the Alliance. Humans were reckless, militant, and lacked the self-control and finesse of the other Council races, yet somehow still firmly believed they belonged on the Council. Even more ludicrous, the Council seemed at least willing to entertain their pleas. Humans had not the military prowess of the turians, the intelligence capabilities of the salarians or the wisdom of the asari, but this young, unproven, fragile species still wanted the same honor the turians had to put down the krogan to earn.

Yet despite all of their obvious flaws, everyone seemed to regard humans with careful, grudging respect. They were incredibly fast learners and even more adaptable than the damn salarians. Every time humanity found themselves backed into a corner they somehow managed to find a way to punch back. The turians were not going to forget Shanxi anytime soon, but neither, Nihlus had learned, was the Alliance.

And then there was Shepard. Nihlus had originally objected to the assignment of observing a human soldier, but after reviewing the Alliance's files he had begun to wonder if he'd underestimated the job. Shepard had a history uncomfortably similar to his own. Flashes of brilliance and skill tempered by a tendency to ignore orders and do whatever was required to get a job done. Shepard's stand at Elysium was startlingly similar to Nihlus's victory on Altakiril, yet where Nihlus had been branded a liability, Shepard had been lauded a hero. In that regard Nihlus actually felt a stab of jealousy. Humanity praised recklessness when it succeeded, while the turian military held their doctrine and the chain of command so sacred, losses and defeat were seen as preferable to securing victory by taking your own initiative.

But it was Torfan that had gotten his attention. The Alliance had only provided the Council with a basic report, declaring that some of the details were classified and off limits. The Shadow Broker, however, had been more forthcoming once Nihlus had offered the right price. Torfan was what made Nihlus think Shepard might be better suited to the Spectres than even the Council realized. There was no place in their ranks for the Alliance's righteous integrity. You had to be willing to get your hands dirty, and if the intel he'd gotten was good, Shepard was. The Shadow Broker's intel was _always_ good.

Nihlus had begun to think he might even enjoy this assignment. But now the geth were here, rendering Shepard an inconsequential afterthought. What mattered was finding the beacon, and figuring out why the geth wanted it.

His HUD flashed, notifying him it had detected a familiar transponder signal. Turian. Nihlus tilted his head, perplexed. Unlike Elysium, Eden Prime was almost exclusively populated by humans, something the Alliance had strived for to prove they could protect a human colony without alien assistance. While it wasn't impossible to think there were a handful of turians here and there, it still struck him as odd. Especially once he took a closer look at the signal itself. It wasn't just that his suit had recognized the presence of turian biology. It had recognized the suit the turian was wearing.

_Saren_, he noted, his mandibles flaring in surprise.

What was Saren doing on a _human_ colony, especially one now under the jurisdiction of another Spectre?

Immediately he headed towards the signal, which was now approaching him from the monorail platform on the lower level. Saren had seen his transponder as well. A small tide of relief washed over him. It had been years since he had last seen his old mentor, and regardless of why he was here Nihlus was glad to have his assistance.

The other Spectre appeared at the top of the ramp. Nihlus paused for a moment, thinking then that something wasn't right. It was unmistakably Saren; no other turian Nihlus had met bore the distinctive side bone that fanned backward from each side of Saren's skull. But up close his old friend was a shadow of his former self. Though no report of an incident had reached him, clearly some recent mission had gone dreadfully wrong. The turian's mandibles were augmented with gleaming slivers of tech, as if to repair some catastrophic damage to his lower jaw. His entire left arm had been replaced by a sleek prosthetic. Over his skull crest he now wore a black hood, making Nihlus wonder if there was something under it Saren wished to conceal.

He tried to hide his shock, but Saren must have seen it. Saren saw everything.

"Saren! What are you doing here?"

The Spectre clamped his good hand heavily on Nihlus's armor-plated shoulder in friendly greeting. His mandibles flexed, the tech implants glinting eerily in the watery light that still leaked through the thick haze.

"I caught the trail of that ship," he said, nodding towards the distant monstrosity. "When I realized you were here I thought you could use a hand." As Saren spoke he hid his prosthetic arm behind his back. He was usually proud of his scars.

There had always been something oily and knavish about Saren's voice, but it was one Nihlus had always trusted. For all of Saren's faults, he had been the one who stood beside Nihlus when the rest of the turian military had been ready to abandon him. Saren was responsible for making him a Spectre. Nihlus owed him everything.

He lowered his weapon.

"I was not expecting the geth," he admitted, moving to the railing overlooking the lower platform. "This is much worse than I thought."

Movement caught his eye below. Geth were loading a monorail train with a tall, narrow obelisk wreathed in a strange, greenish effluvium that seemed almost…organic. _The beacon. _But that was not what had his attention. With sudden, horrible realization Nihlus understood why Saren was hiding his prosthetic arm.

It was a geth arm.

Panic seized him. One hand moved for his gun, too late.

"Don't worry," Saren said, placing the barrel of a pistol against the back of Nihlus's head. "I have things under control."

* * *

By the time the targets were down, Jenkins was dead. Alenko reached him first, whipping out his medkit as he hit his knees beside the corpse. Blood and serum leaked from the dead man's eye sockets, his neck bent at an unnatural angle where the creature had finally snapped it. Alenko sat helplessly, dose of medigel in one hand, the other raised in a helpless gesture. Shepard dropped a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, feeling the tension and anger right through his armor. "We have to find the beacon," he said gruffly. "Get the situation under control."

Alenko flinched, swallowing his rage and grief like glass. After a lengthy pause he nodded. "Yes, sir."

Shepard pulled him to his feet then glanced over at Williams, who was scuffing her boot in the loamy ground and deliberately averting her gaze from the carnage. Shepard remembered her cry of anger, and with sick clarity realized the husk she had gunned down was probably someone she had known. "How far to the monorail station?"

She looked up, her expression blank. "Not far."

_Resilient_, Shepard thought again.

A loud peal of thunder sent a shudder through the air around them. Williams cringed. Shepard followed her gaze to the horizon in disbelief, where the dreadnaught had powered up and was _ascending_ smoothly back into the void. Shepard doubted even the _Normandy _was capable of that kind of maneuver, and it was only a frigate. This mammoth ship was somehow able to take the laws of physics and use them as play toys. Shepard's skin crawled.

"We're out of time," he growled. "Move."

Williams led them up a hard-packed, recently constructed dirt road that curled up and around a ridge, past several clusters of hastily built modular units. Research stations, Williams told them. Or what was left of them. The geth had ransacked them in their search for the beacon. An unchecked fire raged through one of the units, though the other two were intact enough that there might be survivors. Shepard briefly thought about pausing to check, but the dreadnaught's departure had fueled him with urgency. They would have to wait for the Alliance garrison to get help. His comm clicked as Alenko opened an audio feed to him, but the lieutenant closed it without speaking.

_Wise move,_ Shepard thought. There was a time and a place for Alenko's unquenchable altruism, but this wasn't it. Thankfully Alenko realized it, too.

Past the research camp the road descended once more down towards the monorail station, a small, two level structure layered over the precipice of a gorge. Across the gorge a thick line of trees guarded the undeveloped land beyond, through it ran the sleek, gleaming rails of the monorail track as it raced towards Constant. A cluster of crates burned in a far corner and parts of the platform bore the scorch marks of a firefight, but it was largely intact, which told Shepard someone had needed it. His combat scanner was clear, but even with Alenko's upgrades Shepard wasn't going to put his full faith in it, not after their surprise by the drones.

"Take a look around," he said tersely. "I don't want any surprises."

But there was one, and Alenko found it first.

"Commander!"

Shepard spotted him kneeling over a body near the railing overlooking the lower level. From a distance it looked too bulky to be human, but also didn't appear to be a geth.

Nihlus.

"Shit," he muttered, covering the distance to the body with a few quick strides.

"What do you think happened?" Alenko asked, looking up at Shepard with one arm resting wearily across his knee.

With an irritated swipe of his hand Shepard released the neck seals of his helmet and pulled it off his head to get a better look. A rush of thick, humid air converged on his face, and the fire had turned the air gritty. He grimaced when the smell of the corpse hit his nostrils.

One of the most surprising discoveries he had encountered since joining the Alliance was how differently the dead bodies of aliens smelled. The smell of a dead batarian, for instance, was a completely different stench from that of an asari or turian, and none of them were the same as that of a human. Though it was an unusual sign of how different they all were, in the end they all stank, regardless of species. Or at least that was the profound line of thinking he'd had in a bar on Arcturus after Torfan.

Shepard rolled what was left of the turian over so that he was lying face up. What had happened seemed clear enough. There was a hole in Nihlus's head. Blue blood had caked over the white markings of his face, bits of gore and graymatter spattered on the ground. The question facing them was who had done it. Nihlus hadn't struck Shepard as the type who got caught with his guard down.

"A turian?" Williams looked at the body, idly fingering the trigger of her rifle as if she thought she might pump a few more bullets into the corpse just to make extra sure he was dead. "There aren't any turians on Eden Prime that I know of. You know who this is?"

Shepard nodded. "He was with us. A Council Spectre."

"A _Spectre_? The Council sent a Spectre after the beacon?"

Shepard did not answer her. Instead he looked at Alenko. "We need to find out what happened here. If that ship made off with the beacon I'm going to be _really_ pissed."

"Hey!" a voice cried. All three of them turned, the barrels of their guns finding the speaker almost before their eyes had spotted him. A terrified human male crouched behind a stack of crates. He was short, young, with bushy eyebrows almost hidden by a low set black cap. He was wearing a well-worn jumpsuit emblazoned with an ExoGeni logo. "Don't shoot!" he cried, warding them off with his hands. "I'm a colonist."

"And you thought it was a good idea to sneak up on three armed soldiers?" Shepard asked.

"Sorry. I'm just…I'm just really happy to see someone who isn't a machine. Can you help us?"

Williams was the first to lower her weapon. "I've seen you before. You work here at the docks. Powell, right?"

He nodded, clearly not wild the marine knew his name. "Me and some of my shiftmates have been hiding behind the crates," he started, the words falling out of his mouth at a rapid clip, his eyes shifting nervously between Shepard and Alenko, who were still suspicious. "They didn't look too hard when they came through here. Just wanted to get somewhere else." He motioned towards the monorail. "I heard voices…something other than the geth. Didn't sound human, but it was talking. So I crept out to see who it was." He nodded to Nihlus's corpse. "Turian. Two of them. I thought maybe they were here to help us…" He glanced at the corpse and shuddered. "Apparently they weren't."

"You saw another turian?" Alenko asked.

"Yeah," he said, emboldened by their interest. He stepped out from behind the crates. "Big one. This guy knew him," the man said, toeing Nihlus's corpse. "Called him by name, like they were friends. But when this one turned his back, bam. Shot him point blank."

That part of the story was true, at least.

"What was the name?" Shepard asked.

"I don't know. They're all turians! One name's as weird as the next."

Shepard took one deliberate step toward him. "Think," he demanded.

Powell's eyes darted nervously to the side, hands kneading together as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Ok! Gimmie a minute, gimmie a minute…Saren. Yeah, that was it. Your friend called him Saren!"

Shepard's mouth tightened. The name was remotely familiar, but he couldn't think why. "Where did he go?"

"He took the train with the other machines. They had the beacon with them. Are they really geth?"

"The beacon?" Shepard said sharply. "Are you sure?"

Powell bobbled his head vigorously.

"Stay here and keep out of sight. Rescue teams will arrive soon." Shepard turned abruptly away before Powell could say anything more, settling his helmet back in place until the seals caught with a soft hiss. Alenko and Williams immediately fell into step beside him as he headed down the ramp. The monorail was a double track, and thankfully a second, open air cargo train was still docked, half of its cargo still waiting to be unloaded. At least they had some luck on their side.

"Can you operate this thing?" Shepard asked as they boarded, edging their way around the metal crates sealed with the ExoGeni logo and bags of seed. A water reacclimator, brand new and still in its anti-grav seal sat untouched at the rear of the train. Alenko scanned the controls briefly, activated his omnitool and entered a few key sequences. "Think so, Commander. It looks like the last train stopped at a spaceport halfway to Constant. If the beacon's still on the planet, that's where we'll find it."

"Williams, what do you know about that spaceport?

She shrugged. "Not much to it. Handles mostly cargo. It's a catchall for the southern settlements. From there everything gets either sent on to Constant or shipped out on freighters."

"Layout?"

"Bigger than this station but similar layout. Exposed, open air. The rail runs right through the middle of the station. When you get off you have to go through the upper level storage facilities to get to the docks." She hesitated. "We can probably find cover in the storage bays, but it'll be pretty easy to get flanked. Not the best place to start a firefight."

"That seems to be in keeping with today's events," Alenko muttered. "Good news is I can disable the controls at the spaceport, so at least they can't see we're coming until we're close enough to get a visual."

Shepard smiled to himself. "Good work."

Alenko waved his omnitool in front of the control panel, bringing the monorail to life with a heavy thrum. Shepard gripped the railing, not terribly pleased at the prospect of riding a high speed rail in an open car. The floor shifted under his feet as the train shot away from the station. Wind whipped against his helmet with increasing force as the train picked up speed, filling Shepard's audio feed with a dull roar. The ground fell away as the train hurtled through the gorge. On either side of them the trees were reduced to indiscriminate blurs of dull green while ahead of them the smoky skyline of Constant drew steadily nearer.


	5. Chapter 5: 2:29

**5. 2:29**

There were more than a dozen pings on Shepard's combat scanner as they approached the spaceport. According to his omnitool the monorail track cut through the station on an open air sublevel, surrounded by a wide catwalk that would make it easy for the geth to hit them from higher ground.

"Williams," he said. "Can you snipe?"

She nodded grimly, reaching for the single shot sniper rifle she packed on her back, engraved with an Elkoss Combine logo. _Need to get this girl a better gun_, Shepard thought. If the Alliance was doling out volus-made crap to its planetside garrisons, it was a wonder any of their colonies were still standing. He withdrew his own sniper. Shepard had managed to use his N7 status to scrounge a license for Haliat Armory. Say what you wanted about turians, they knew how to make a good sniper the press of a button the barrel extended to its full length with a quiet hiss.

Shepard hoisted the rifle, sighting down the scope as the monorail approached the station. Despite their high speed, the targeting suite in his Onyx readily locked on to a pylon node he targeted through the scope optics.

"Let's see if we can take away their advantage before they realize they have it. Alenko, any chance you can create a diversion for us if we need it?"

There was a brief silence. Shepard could almost hear Alenko analyzing his HUD data and calculating how many tech mines he had left. "I think I can overheat their weapons if we're close enough. And I should be able to overload their shield generators like I did the drones. That'll at least make them easier to take out."

The train began braking for arrival. Through his scope Shepard spotted two geth on the upper storage levels adjacent to the spacedock. They were approaching the catwalk railing, apparently to investigate the incoming train. He honed in on the first and squeezed the trigger. The sniper rifle bucked against his shoulder as the slug ripped free of the barrel with a loud crack, finding its mark right in the blue orb of its head. The geth shuddered, took a staggering step and then dropped.

Williams took out the second, nailing it with equal precision.

Shepard leapt off the train before it had fully halted, pressing his back up against the incline of a ramp that led to the upper level and the storage bays. From here they were out of sight from the railing, but there was nothing to stop the geth from sighting them on the ramp itself.

He glanced at his combat scanner, then edged towards the bottom of the ramp and chanced a quick look at the railing. There was a long row of empty partitions. Most of the geth seemed congregated towards the far end of the storage bays, with the exception of two or three that were now heading their direction.

"Commander?" Alenko asked, in a tone that Shepard did not like at all. "We have a problem."

"Spit it out, Alenko," Shepard said, spying two more geth making their way towards them along the railing, larger than the troopers, wearing distinctive white armor and carrying pulse rifles. Behind them rumbled something even bigger, carrying what might have been a rocket launcher. _Great_.

Alenko feverishly swiped through readings on his omnitool. "I'm detecting explosives. Lots of them. Rigged all around the storage bays…and they're on an active timer."

"They want to destroy the spaceport?" Williams asked, unable to contain her surprise.

"No," Shepard said, mind working fast. "They want to destroy the beacon. It's still here. They got what they wanted and now they want to make sure no one else can do the same." _And that's not going to happen._

There was only one easy way up to the second level – the ramp they were now hiding behind. From there he could try to circle the catwalk from the opposite side, but there was little to no cover and Shepard didn't care to test the accuracy of an AI targeting system. He felt the weight of the grenades pack on his hip. Full frontal assault it was.

"Alenko – I need you to deactivate the bombs. Preferably before they go off. Williams will cover you."

"What about you?" Alenko asked sharply.

"I'm going to look for the damn beacon."

"That thing up there has a rocker launcher!" Alenko cried.

"Not for long," Shepard replied. Alenko looked like he wanted to object, but Williams grabbed his arm. "Yes, sir."

Shepard slid as close as he could to the far end of the ramp without exposing his head to the geth and crouched low. "Lieutenant," Shepard said. Alenko glanced up from his omnitool, where he was rapidly scrolling through disarm codes. "I'm going to take as many of them off you as I can. I don't want to die down here, got that?"

Alenko nodded, setting his jaw. "You won't, sir."

* * *

Kaidan Alenko had no intentions of dying either. When Shepard banked the turn onto the ramp he had already zeroed in on the first bomb, just meters away from them on the platform in easy view of anything on the catwalks. But the numbers on his omnitool were not encouraging.

Four bombs. Four minutes.

"Can you keep them off me long enough to disarm them all?" he asked.

Williams clutched the barrel of her assault rifle, which she had exchanged in place of her sniper. For just a moment, Kaidan thought she had reached the end of her rope. Her unit had been wiped out by machines and turned into living zombies she'd had to shoot down, and now he was asking her to risk her life to help someone she'd just met save not the colony, but the prothean beacon that had caused the attack in the first place. It was enough to hit anyone's breaking point. But he was wrong.

Williams closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "How long do you need?"

"Well, if it's more than four minutes you won't have to worry about it anymore."

"Alenko, for both our sakes I hope you have really fast hands."

Without further discussion they ran for the first explosive. Kaidan dropped down next to the device, a simple, hastily made cylinder about the size of his footlocker. Above them on the catwalk he heard the crack and sizzle of a grenade going off. _Shepard. _Sometimes Alenko didn't know whether the Commander was just that good, or a guy with a death wish and a never ending stream of good luck. On days like today he didn't want to know the answer.

The decryption program he'd selected for the job was already running through his omnitool, which cast an eerie orange glow on the smooth, gunmetal surface of the bomb. It was one of his pet programs, one he'd been tweaking for months. Right now it was sorting through thousands of known explosive configurations to help him isolate and trigger the disarm protocols.

Three minutes, forty two seconds.

"Come on, come on," he muttered.

He heard the pendulate whine of a geth pulse rifle and instinctively rolled to the left. Williams let out a yell and sprayed the railing above them with bullets, but before they could reach their target a blue energy field bloomed in front of it in the shape of an opaque hexagon. Each bullet ricocheted off the shield with an angry flurry of sharp _pings_. The shield shimmered under each impact, oscillating from blue to pale orange in color.

"What the hell!" Williams exclaimed. "You mean to tell me these asshole have _mobile _cover?"

Kaidan thought fast. It had to be some sort of kinetic shield. Shields could be overloaded, but he couldn't take his attention away from his omnitool to program a tech mine.

"Left hip compartment!" Kaidan yelled. "Grab a mine! You'll have to program it with an overload charge."

He felt the Gunnery Chief's hand on his left hip, scrounging for the mines. He angled towards her a little to give her better access. The entire time she kept her other hand on the trigger of her rifle, shooting a chaotic hail of bullets with one hand.

Three minutes, thirty six seconds.

"How the hell do I program this thing?" she asked once she'd fished one out.

Kaidan felt sweat dripping down his forehead, threatening to fall in his eyes. Almost subconsciously he adjusted the temperature controls in his HUD. "Ahh…you have to set the detonation output to pulse. Then overclock the KEO by a factor of…um...six point seven eight. Charge it with your omnitool. Just be careful – that gives it a short fuse!"

Williams fiddled with the mine when the geth dropped back behind his shield and lobbed it up over the railing, smiling in satisfaction at the geth's dismayed warble when it detonated with a burst of electricity. The shield evaporated, leaving behind an acrid smell like singed hair. Williams had already started shooting, peppering the armor of the now-defenseless geth until it seized and fell. She cackled.

Two more geth had spotted them from the opposite end of the catwalk. One of them was enormous, with yellow markings, a thick set of antenna protruding from its back and a rocket launcher in its hands. Williams swore. "Why couldn't they have chosen a place where we could have _some_ tactical advantage?"

Three minutes, twelve seconds.

"Hate to rush you," Williams said, "but are you almost done?"

"Almost," he said, willing the decryption protocol to work faster. So long as it worked on the first, the others would go quickly.

The chronometer on the bomb froze. "Got it!" Kaidan yelled. But he didn't have time to revel in the victory. Williams grabbed the gun holster on his back and yanked him backwards as the giant geth opened fire. He stumbled, hard, flailing an arm and rocking back on his heels in an effort to keep his balance. Williams, hands still on his holster, braced his fall and thrust him sideways as hard as she could. As he hit his knees she was already diving for the gun she had dropped. In one deft movement she had scooped it up, rolled, and opened fire.

The rocket hit the ground where Kaidan had been moments ago with a boom. The blast knocked him on his side, his kinetic barriers bleeping in sudden alarm. Reflexively he clenched his fists and held his arms tight in front of his chest. His amp hummed, and a bright blue corona of biotic energy flared around him before tightening to fit the contours of his body like a second layer of skin.

Williams' assault rifle never ceased its menacing chatter. It had to be close to overheating, and if it did they were screwed. "You _mother fuckers!" _she bellowed.

Alenko struggled back to his feet, trying not to look too closely at the blackened floor panels. He put his hands on Williams' shoulders, guiding her towards the ramp. "Good news is, I got it," he yelled. "Bad news is, there's three more!"

"Then let's hurry the hell up, shall we? I'd hate to run out of these bastards."

"Yes, ma'am," Kaidan agreed, and sought out the next bomb.

Two minutes, twenty nine seconds.

* * *

Shepard hated it when Alenko was right. Taking on the white shock troopers had been one thing, but the giant, yellow striped metal bastard was packing a plasma shotgun in addition to the rocket launcher, and up close turned out to be an eleven foot tall monster that liked to use itself as a battering ram. The antenna on its back had been as thick as Shepard's arm. Command unit. Maybe that at least meant there weren't many more of them.

The breach alarm in his hardsuit wailed as he limped towards the docks. He was pretty sure it was somewhere between the ablative plating of his shoulder guards. The front of his armor had been seared black and breathing hurt his ribs, but at least he was still breathing. It had either been a rocket to the chest or being too close to one of his own grenades. Shepard chose the latter.

He took temporary shelter inside an empty storage partition, helmet thunking heavily against the metal wall as he leaned his head against it. With a weary hand he poked around his shoulder looking for the breach, finding it right where he suspected. At the shoulder joint over his collar bone there was a jagged hole in the ablative coating that went right through to the kinetic padding.

There were still geth between him and the docks, four according to his scanner. He was down to two grenades and minus a shotgun. It had overheated in his confrontation with the giant destroyer and the time it would have taken to stow it behind his back was as long as the geth would have needed to finish him off. So he'd dropped it instead.

Behind him he heard the oscillating fire of the geth rifle and shouting from Williams. For a split second he thought about turning back. He should not have left them. But if the geth and whoever this Saren was were after the beacon, he could not afford to do otherwise. One of them had to get the beacon. If the geth had it – or Saren for that matter – it was Shepard's job to stop them. Alenko's job was to make sure they didn't blow up in the process.

Shepard groped for his assault rifle, held it in front of his chest for a moment and exhaled deeply. Then he ducked out of the storage bay and headed for the docks. Before getting to the ramp he dug out a grenade and tagged the location of the geth on his combat scanner. As he rounded the corner he trusted to the scanner and let it fly. Before it even hit the ground he opened fire with his rifle, running the heat sinks almost to overheat. White fluid and chunks of cable spattered Shepard's armor as he walked steadily towards them, pumping a stream of bullets into their metallic hides.

Three of the four went down before he finally heard the screech of the overheat klaxon. The last geth standing had managed to point its rifle, but Shepard was close enough now that he gripped the casing of his gun with both hands, swung the barrel up and used it as a club, slamming it into the synthetic rib cage as he kicked its feet out from underneath it. The get emitted a discordant shriek as it hit the ground. Shepard pulled out his pistol and fired point blank into the blue light of its face, smirking as the light flickered and then died.

With a sharp exhale Shepard slid the pistol back in its holster and turned away, getting his first clear look at the dock. A handful of cargo crates were stacked around the wide open space. There across from the ramp, sitting on the edge of the dock was a tall, dark spire throwing off wisps of soft, green vapor. The beacon. They _had_ left it. And since Saren was nowhere to be found, he had to assume that the renegade turian had absconded with the dreadnaught. _Why leave it here?_

He approached it warily. The beacon's slender stalk rose from the center of a simple but elegantly sloped base. A few steps closer he thought he could detect a low hum, one that he felt rather than heard, like it had slipped under his skin and crawled inside his bones.

Shepard paused, but it was too late.

_Oh, shit_.

The beacon flared with an explosion of green light. The hum intensified until it was strong enough to rattle his teeth. Its green glow snaked out and snared his frozen, rigid body, lifting him off the ground until he was suspended, helpless, several feet above the platform. White hot fire pricked at his brain, worming its way hungrily inside until it found the deepest corners of his mind and clamped down.


	6. Chapter 6: Exstirpatio

6. Exstirpatio

_Shepard drifts amongst the stars, watching as a single world gives birth to life. He sees them, watches them stand on unsteady feet, grow swift and strong, speak with halting voices words he does not understand. Always they seek, explore, desire, hunger, gazes turned to the sky. _

(we are prothean and we traverse the stars)

_They spiral outward from a single pinprick into the wide open arms of the galaxy. They build, love, live and die, the ebb and flow of their tide reaching out to unnumbered shores on unnumbered worlds. _

_But there are empty spaces between the stars, a cold interstitum of utter dark, where blood runs black and monsters lurk. In the silence something broods, waits, watches. They are patient, constant, relentless. And they are far, far older than the infants now taking their first halting steps across the galactic sand._

_From deep slumber they emerge, stirred by the warmth of these new, fragile creatures. The monsters are awake, and they set the stars ablaze. _

_One by one these brave new worlds crumble into ash, the screams of the dead piercing even the silence of space. _

_Shepard closes his eyes. The stars vanish. _

_This body is not Shepard's. He sees with its eyes, hears with its ears and breathes with its lungs, but everything about it is strange, utterly unfamiliar. Alien. _

(we are prothean)

_Nothing here is right. The air, the soil under his feet, the towering edifices scraping against the skies. All familiar, but all inherently wrong, like standing on Earth rotating under the wrong sun. Light casts old shadows, wind glazes his cheek like the finger of a ghost. The air in his nose smells like the dust off of old paper. It is all real, but so far…so present but so remote, like wandering through an increasingly reverberating echo, each reiteration growing fainter and more distant. _

_The hum and bustle of living surrounds him, gliding past like memories that casually intersect everywhere he turns. Their blurred, shapeless forms bloom into familiar faces. Anderson. Jenkins. Major Kyle and the rest of his unit from Torfan. He recoils. They are as wrong as his surroundings, masks pulled over ill-fitting flesh, some futile attempt his brain makes to translate the unknown into something he can grasp._

_Amongst them is a woman with auburn hair that catches in a forgotten breeze. His heart drops to his feet. _

_(not her, not her, not her, she's dead, it's not her)_

_Her eyes are hollow, black, though Shepard remembers when they were blue. She smiles with no teeth. Despite her wrongness she is beautiful. She is whole. Shepard weeps. _

_(no, batarians, fire, they set her on fire, she's dead she's dead it's not real)_

_The skies grow dark. This is not the dark of night. This is something more, something evil, something he cannot stop. _

_(they are coming) _

_He pushes toward her, through a sea of men he sent to a bloody, wrathful death. They watch him with cold eyes, oily shadows pooling at their feet, ribcages exposed and glowing blue. They whisper in his ear as he forces himself past, fingers grasping and ripping at his skin._

_(they are coming)_

_Shepard cries to her, the woman who gave birth to him, but he is too late, everything is too late. Jenkins, with his gaping, empty eye sockets, plunges his fingers into her skull until blood gushes forth in terrible sanguineous abundance. Shepard screams, raw and deafening in his grief, but his hands slip through Jenkins like vapor._

_Hannah Shepard opens her arms to her son in a sea of blood, welcoming machines that descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns. _

_They are coming, they are coming they are coming theyarecomingTHEYARECOMING- _

* * *

"Shepard."

His eyes opened with a snap. All he could hear was his rapid heartbeat thrumming in his ears. Black, oily shadows danced in front of his eyes, slowly fading into the dull, gray striated walls of the _Normandy's _med bay. Pain flared behind his eyes, pounding hard and steady against his skull.

"Commander Shepard!"

With a start he realized he was gripping the wrist of a white faced Dr. Chakwas. He released it quickly, looking around him in a near panic, certain he could see dark figures lurking in the corners of his vision.

Dr. Chakwas rubbed her wrist, looking at him with wide eyes. "Commander, it's all right. You're safe on the _Normandy._"

"Sorry," he said, drawing in a shaky breath. "I'm – sorry."

"Are you all right?"

Shepard closed his eyes, willing the pain in his head to recede, to no avail. But this time when he opened them his surroundings seemed more concrete, less dreamlike. He shuddered. A red light flashed somewhere nearby, casting red halos onto the ceiling. His hand drifted to his head, fingers gingerly probing his temple. Somewhere he could hear something ticking, the sound digging into his brain like a splinter. Slowly he curled into a sitting position, back hunched and legs hanging off the side of the bed. He kept one hand against his head, still wincing even in the dim light of the infirmary, the other draped protectively across his chest.

"Shepard, how do you feel?"

"Like the morning after shore leave," he croaked. "What happened?"

"It was the beacon," another voice spoke up. Ashley Williams, his tortured mind informed him. She stood in the opposite corner of the room, visibly relieved. "The LT and I got down to the docks in time to see it suck you in. It must have overloaded. You got caught in the blast."

Eden Prime. It came back to him in a rush.

"And the beacon?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Destroyed," she said reluctantly.

Shepard swore under his breath.

Dr. Chakwas picked up a medical scanner, hand trembling ever so slightly, and lowered herself to Shepard's eye level, aiming the device at his forehead. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she scrutinized the results. "You've been out for several hours," Chakwas told him, in her soft, British lilt. "Aside from a couple of cracked ribs you don't appear to be worse for wear, but I did register some very peculiar brain activity." She smoothed a strand of silver hair back in place before folding up the device and slipping it back into its case with a click.

"I was…dreaming," he recalled, though it wasn't a dream. It wasn't even a nightmare. It was worse. "It was…I've never experienced anything like it. It was so _vivid_."

She sorted swiftly through a drawer and produced a hypo-injector that she pressed against his neck. "See if that helps. The ribs will probably be sore for a day or two. I ran you through a bone knitter while you were out. Once the new tissue is mature you should be as good as new."

He rubbed the skin where she injected him. Moments later the tightness in his head loosened just enough that he felt a little of his humanity return. "Thanks, Doc."

She raised a knowing eyebrow, hint of a smile in her features. "The Captain warned me you'd be a regular. I just wasn't expecting him to be right two days into our tour."

"What can I say, I'm precocious." He heard Williams' derisive snort from across the room, along with the sound of someone clearing his throat. The throbbing in his head had been so loud he hadn't even noticed Captain Anderson's arrival.

"Glad to see you upright again, Shepard," Anderson rumbled.

"Captain," the doctor acknowledged. "Your sixth sense is working rather well today. Commander Shepard just came to."

"What's his status?"

Chakwas folded her arms loosely across her chest. "Everything looks normal. I'd say he's going to be fine. Still, I'd like to run a few more tests before I release him, just to be safe."

"Good. With your permission, I need to speak with him. Alone."

Both Chakwas and Williams cleared the room without argument. When the door cycled shut it was quiet enough to hear the hum of the fluorescent track lighting along the walls. The throbbing in Shepard's head increased slightly.

"Sounds like you took quite a hit," Anderson said finally. "Sure you're all right?"

Shepard squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've had much worse, sir."

The silence fell again, but Shepard didn't need help to interpret it. These days Torfan sat between them like a giant chasm. He dropped his hand into his lap, avoiding the Captain's gaze. There wasn't anything in it he hadn't seen before, but he was tired of getting it from Anderson.

Eventually the Captain sighed, his stern features relaxing just enough that for the first time since Shepard had known him, he looked old. "You were never good with technology."

Shepard allowed a small, pained smile. "Alenko, ah, had his hands full at the time."

"So I heard," Anderson said, strolling towards the opposite end of the med bay, pretending to examine something on the wall. "I admit I was a little worried about bringing an L2 biotic on board, but if his report is accurate a blow to the head would have been the least of your worries if he and Chief Williams hadn't been there."

For a moment Shepard thought he heard reproach in Anderson's voice. Looking at the back of his head it was impossible to tell for sure. "We're lucky we found Williams when we did. She knew the colony, knew where the beacon was headed. Without her Alenko wouldn't have even had a chance to diffuse those charges."

"Alenko said she held off half a dozen geth while he was disarming the bombs." Anderson clasped his hands behind his back, still facing the wall. "Sound familiar?"

Shepard grunted, unwilling to give him the response he wanted.

"I put in a request to have Williams transferred to the _Normandy_," Anderson went on. "According to Alenko she has what it takes, and we...had an unexpected opening."

Now Shepard was sure there was an unspoken accusation in his tone. A quick flash of unexpected anger made his skin hot. Not once had Anderson asked him to explain what had happened during the raid. He merely accepted, like everyone else, that Shepard had earned his nickname by fulfilling a personal vendetta at the cost of his men. _Not everything can be like Elysium, goddammit,_ Shepard thought. _Jenkins was not my fault. _

Memories of the husk digging its pale fingers into Jenkins' eyes sent a shudder down his back. Shepard never imagined he'd find anyone more sadistic than the batarians, who took sick delight in how much pain they could inflict on a living body. But the empty eyes of the husks and the geth's cold indifference somehow made them much, much worse.

"I couldn't save Jenkins," he said abruptly. "That was no goddamned place for an FNG. We had no idea what we were walking in to."

Anderson's hand twitched behind his back. "Jenkins was a soldier. He knew the risks."

"Yeah," Shepard muttered.

With a deep sigh Anderson finally turned to face him. "Things look bad, Shepard. Nihlus is dead, the beacon's destroyed and the geth showed up out of nowhere with a ship more advanced than anything in our fleet. The Council wants answers."

Shepard scowled. "So do I. I don't like losing, sir. But the deck was stacked against us before our boots ever hit the ground. Eden Prime wouldn't be more than a salvage operation if we hadn't shown up."

"I stand by your actions, Shepard," Anderson said after a reluctant pause. "But according to Alenko's report this is even more complicated than it looks. He claims another turian was down there, and that he murdered Nihlus."

"Saren," Shepard confirmed.

An odd expression crossed Anderson's features. "That's…going to be a problem."

"I figured as much," Shepard said, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace.

"Then you've heard of him?"

Shepard shifted on the medical bed, sending a lance of pain through his ribs. He gritted his teeth. Sometimes he was sure the pain from a bone knitter was worse than the broken bone. "The name rang a bell. I figured that couldn't be good."

"He's a Spectre," Anderson confirmed, the words seeming to leave a bad taste in his mouth. "One of the Council's best. And you're telling me he's working with the geth. Do you see the problem?"

Shepard noticed him toying with the hem of his sleeve. Nihlus had made Anderson uncomfortable, too. _What don't I know? _"That's why I'm a soldier and not a politician."

A ghost of a smile passed Anderson's lips. "Unfortunately, when you're in command you become both. And it gets better."

"I can't wait."

"Saren's ruthless. Brutal. A rogue Spectre is bad no matter how you look at it. But this one also happens to hate humans."

Shepard rubbed his temples. His mind ached to the point he had to force himself to think. "Ok. But that's not why he was at Eden Prime. He wanted something from that beacon. And whatever it was, he got it. By the time we got there he was gone."

Anderson sighed in frustration and began to pace. "Did you get _anything_ from the beacon before it exploded? Any clue to what Saren might be after?"

A violent spasm of images knifed through Shepard's brain. Desperation, terror and hopelessness awash in a tide of blood pressed against his eyelids like shards of glass. The pain in his head flared to such intensity he thought his skull might rip in half. They were so vast, so many…

_And they all died screaming…_

"I had a vision," he managed finally, swallowing it all back before it could consume him. "I think it was the protheans. They were…slaughtered. Billions of them. By synthetics."

Anderson justifiably looked taken aback, but surprisingly didn't dismiss it out of hand. "And…you think this vision came from the beacon?"

"I know it didn't come from _me_." The feeling of powerlessness clung to him like a leech. He rubbed his hands along his thighs, as if he could somehow wipe his hands of the protheans and anything to do with them. "It felt like something was digging in there, trying to bore a hole in my brain. Not something I would wish on someone else, sir."

Anderson watched him carefully for a few moments before speaking again.

"Well, there's no way to find out what Saren has. But I know him. I know his motivations. And now he has prothean secrets and a geth army at his back."

The vehemence in his voice took Shepard by surprise.

"He's after humanity, Shepard. He wants us all dead. And with the resources of the Spectres he can go anywhere, do anything. Even if we can find him we won't be able to touch him." He smacked a balled fist against his hand. "We have to convince the Council to go after him."

Anderson's anger dissipated almost as quickly as it had developed. When he looked back at Shepard he was neither the Anderson who treated him like a son nor the Anderson who treated him like the Butcher of Torfan. Now he was merely Shepard's captain.

"Get some rest," he said. "We'll reach the Citadel in about eighteen hours."

The door cycled shut behind him, leaving Shepard alone in the med bay. Shepard squeezed his eyes shut. The beacon's nightmare still lurked right behind his eyelids. He didn't think he'd be doing much sleeping for the foreseeable future.

* * *

In the dimly lit cargo bay of the _Normandy, _Ashley stared at the locker matching the number Navigator Pressly had given her. This close to the drive core she could hear a steady, rhythmic thrum vibrating through the deckplates under her feet. Behind her loomed the bulky shadow of an infantry tank a couple of generations newer than anything they'd had on Eden Prime.

She'd sprung the lock with the proffered code only to discover that it hadn't been empty. A collection of datapads and personal holos were stacked neatly on the upper shelf. A couple of uniforms, stiff and starched with a clean, new scent hung from the hangers. One pair of boots had been tossed casually in the bottom, resting on top of a backpack with the name _Jenkins_ stitched near the top.

They had given her a dead man's locker.

Not that she had much to put in it yet. All she had was her armor and guns. Her other scant belongings were sitting down in the now deserted barracks of Arcadia, surrounded by the ghosts of the 212. They would probably stay there, too. She didn't want them back. If the Alliance ever got around to the task of sorting through any of it she'd tell them to just ship hers to her mom.

_I need to get a message to her, _Ashley thought to herself.

She'd even had to talk to the requisitions officer about finding a set of fatigues so she could actually get out of her armor. For several hours after she and Alenko had hauled Shepard's unconscious body onto the _Normandy _she'd had to stomp around in her hardsuit. No one had been able to lay hands on a pair of boots her size, so she was still wearing the ones that went with the armor. She was tempted to check and see if Jenkins' boots were her size.

It seemed like a lifetime ago she'd been excited to get into that Phoenix. Now she didn't care if she ever wore it again.

Ashley wandered around the deserted cargo bay until she found an empty crate in a pile stacked next to a weapons bench. This ship was so new the guns were literally right out of the box. Dutifully she began packing the crate with Jenkins' things.

_Look at me now, Sonsini_, she thought. _Where you and I always wanted to be._ Planetside garrison to serving on a ship commanded by one of the Alliance's most decorated captains and an XO who'd been awarded the Star of fucking Terra. It was like living in her ultimate fantasy and worst nightmare at the same time. The Williams' curse was a thing to behold.

She laid Jenkins' boots in last, guiltily thinking she should have put them on the bottom but unwilling to take everything out and start over. Just handling this stuff in the first place felt like a violation. She hadn't known this kid at all, and here she was with her fingers all over the intimate objects of his life. So instead she just snapped the lid of the crate closed, entered Jenkins' service number into the inventory manifest and shoved it over in a corner for someone else to worry about.

Her stomach rumbled. It occurred to her she hadn't eaten in about twelve hours. She also hadn't slept for at least twenty four, but she hadn't been assigned a sleeper pod yet and the thought of cramming herself into one of those upright canisters creeped her out. Especially since she was willing to bet when they finally assigned her one it would turn out to be Jenkins'. No, eating was definitely preferable to sleep right now.

She clomped her way to the crew deck elevator in her overly conspicuous Phoenix boots. According to the Sirta database they were supposed to have been an amber-red color, but in person they were more of a blushing pink. If she wanted to make a good impression on her new crewmates, she was doing a bang up job.

_As usual, Williams, you've just got winner written all over you. _

* * *

Lt. Jeff Moreau lounged back in his seat as he watched the static discharge roll away from the _Normandy's _drive core into Zion's magnetic field. The gas giant's atmosphere churned under the auroral effects of the dump. Gave the place a little charm.

Anderson had wanted to march right on to the Citadel without stopping to purge, but Adams down in engineering had insisted on radiating the hull and dumping the drive charge before the relay jump. It was the first time they'd used the IES, he'd argued, and he wanted to make sure all was in order before getting to Widow. Pressly had agreed, and Anderson finally caved after being reminded of the long lines at the Citadel discharge facilities. The radiation purge had gone smoothly enough. Now they were just waiting on the charge vent.

The last sheets of lightning died away, and Joker's terminal flashed. Lazily he flicked a comm switch to engineering. "Adams. I'm reading green. What's your board say?"

"_Everything looks normal. Heat sinks are back online and the drive core is spinning back up. We'll be ready to head for the relay shortly." _

"Hear that, old man?" Joker asked, directing his query to the CIC. He could sense Pressly's hackles rise from here. Pressly was exactly the kind of guy he liked, too old to give much of a shit about protocol and cantankerous enough to see the galaxy map like most old men saw their front lawn. He enjoyed yelling at the young folk to get off the grass.

"_Laying in a course for the relay,"_ Pressly grumped. "_ETA about five hours."_

"Good," Joker declared. "Chase can handle the helm for a few hours while I catch a nap." He ignored Pressly's retort and glanced over his shoulder at the young corporal sitting in front of a haptic interface in the CIC hallway. She had short brown hair and an imperturbable demeanor that Joker kind of hated. "You got this for a few hours?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she said cheerfully, sliding out of her chair. She waited patiently while Joker snapped on the leg braces and groped for his crutches, pulling himself out of his seat with the gracefulness of a three legged rhinoceros.

Joker could handle being around the big, beefy marines. It was when he stood next to a pert, good looking officer with Addison Chase's perfect curves that he felt like a helpless invalid.

One of the crutches tipped dangerously as he floundered for balance in the cockpit's enclosed space. He waited for the telltale crack of bone as he desperately brought it back to bear, exhaling with relief when it didn't come. Though Chase's expression didn't change, Joker felt a dangerous flush building around his neck. With an unintelligible mutter he retreated from the cockpit with as much speed as his pathetic, mechanically assisted body would allow.

Sitting at the helm of a ship Joker was an indomitable force. Thousands of kilos of metal sinews, kinetic energy and heat would dance and skim a faster than light choreography under his skilled but fragile fingers. He could outmaneuver, outgun and outrun any pilot he'd ever met, but once he left that chair it was a miracle for him to take a routine piss without fracturing a hip.

Vrolik's syndrome was a bitch.

Growing up on Arcturus, he'd watched ships his whole life. But even on the station he was the odd one out. His parents weren't military – just contractors. Joker was a civilian kid living a military life among humans that were not only humanity's finest and fittest, but in most cases even had military issue gene modification to boot. And then there was Joker, an ill-fitting meat suit hanging on a useless skeleton.

The first time he'd sat in a pilot's seat his dad had just been humoring him. For Joker it was like finally being born. Flying just made _sense_ to him. There was an inherent cadence to it that he couldn't explain or describe but intuitively understood on a level that apparently no one else did. His academy instructors had called him a savant. In turn he called them dilettantes, which really earned him a lot of good will. It wasn't his fault they weren't in his league.

No one in flight school had liked him, but that was fine since he didn't like any of them. He was there to learn, there to fly, and the rest of it didn't mean shit. The nickname "Joker" was supposed to be an ironic moniker for the kid who never smiled, but come graduation he'd been grinning ear to ear. His file was crammed full of honors and commendations and now he'd earned the biggest prize of all.

His ship was goddamned beautiful. The mere idea of letting someone like Chase fly her, even on autopilot, was a little like being ok with some other guy feeling up your girlfriend. When you had a girl like the _Normandy_, you wanted everyone else to look, envy, and keep their paws the hell off.

He did have to sleep eventually though, and the few hours before the relay jump was his best chance. The only thing that could compare to flying the ship was sleeping in it – he was maybe the only man alive who preferred sleeper pods to beds. Anything he could step into verses climb on was a plus, and the antigrav suspension system even managed his bodyweight so he couldn't crush anything or roll over on his side and fracture a shoulder.

Pressly was still in the CIC when Joker gimped through, frowning at a datapad in his left hand and tapping commands into his haptic interface with his right. Two third shifters sitting around the galaxy map looked utterly bored.

"Better get some beauty sleep while you can," Joker said around a yawn. "We get to park at the Citadel with the cool kids in a few hours. Don't you wanna look sharp?"

Pressly scowled at him over the datapad. Joker wondered how the man could have white hair on the sides of his head but brown scruff on his face. "Would it kill you to use 'sir' here and there?"

"What, I don't get sympathy tolerance for being a cripple? Where's the handicap pity?"

"I save my pity for the people who need it."

Joker grinned from under the brim of his ballcap. Yes, he definitely liked Pressly.

The navigator opened his mouth for some other retort when someone else emerged from the CIC stairs.

Damn. Shepard looked like _hell. _

Joker had heard about their XO before he'd reported to the _Normandy_. The hero of Elysium, in the flesh. But accompanying every Elysium accolade was a whisper about the clusterfuck on Torfan, and no one seemed quite sure what to make of him. Joker was dreading some wounded heart soldier with an over exaggerated sense of honor and duty who spent his rack time crying in a corner about the cold, cruel world. But when Shepard stepped through the airlock it took about a nanosecond for Joker to decide that whatever had happened on Torfan had definitely been a clusterfuck for someone, just not for Shepard.

Shepard immediately struck him as the kind of man who just didn't give a shit what anyone thought about him, and not because he had a chip on his shoulder like Joker did. Public opinion was simply _below_ him, something that literally didn't matter. Anyone who thought their opinion did matter would only have to take one look at him to realize their mistake.

Somehow the man just commanded attention, like something in his genetic makeup had the power to make people shut up and listen. Shepard was tall, sure, especially next to Joker's diminutive five foot three frame, and had the kind of physique that made it clear he could put someone through a wall without thinking about it too hard. But that wasn't what made him so imposing. Joker thought it had more to do with the simple observation that Shepard was a man who was thoroughly comfortable in his own skin, seeming no less fragile in his fatigues than he was in his armor. It was a feeling Joker couldn't even fathom.

But that Shepard wasn't the one who had just shown up in the CIC. This Shepard literally looked like he'd stuck his head through hell's door and was trying to come to grips with what he saw there. His broad shoulders were slumped and narrowed, he walked with the stiffness of someone guarding a few busted ribs (Joker knew that look – he'd busted enough himself) and his face was haggard. But it was the haunted look in his eyes that was really alarming. Shepard had an uncanny ability to convey everything you needed to know about where you stood with just one glance – he either looked at you with the full force of his gaze, or through you like you were vapor. But right now his eyes were dazed and bloodshot, as though everywhere he looked some nightmare leered from the shadows.

One glance told Joker Pressly was just as taken aback.

"Thought Dr. Chakwas had you prisoner in the infirmary," Joker said, trying to keep his tone light.

Shepard glanced over, almost surprised to see they were even there. "Couldn't sleep," he said, running one hand wearily over his close-shaved head. "Didn't think anyone else would be up."

"The old man and I were just finishing up the drive dump. I'm on my way to join the pod people."

Shepard nodded.

"You all right, sir?" Pressly ventured. "I heard you took a pretty nasty blow to the head."

For just a second Shepard's eyes flashed with something vivid, almost _angry_. But it passed just as quickly, his expression becoming watery and unfocused once more. Joker wasn't sure which was worse.

"Fine," Shepard said. "Anxious to get to the Citadel."

"Ever been?" Pressly asked, relieved to have somewhere to go with the conversation.

"No," Shepard admitted.

"You're going to love it. I came once on the _Agincourt_, spent a few days. It's quite a place."

"I prefer ships," Joker said.

Pressly rolled his eyes. "In more ways than one."

"Shut up, Baldy."

Shepard did not answer, gazing absently at the galaxy map. Joker and Pressly exchanged glances. "Commander," Joker said carefully. "I was going to head to the mess for a few, see if I could dig up any grub. Wanna come?"

Shepard frowned. "I thought you were going to crash."

"Great pilots never crash. Besides, constant paranoia I might break a rib makes me a bad sleeper anyway."

Shepard hesitated, but nodded. Joker resumed his course towards the stairwell, anxious to get off his feet. The commander followed almost in a trance. _What the hell happened down there_? Joker wondered, at least until they reached the stairwell. Then all he could think about was finding whatever turian had thought stair access to the CIC was a good idea and punching him right in his fucking face.


	7. Chapter 7: Caeli Flos

Chapter 7 - Caeli Flos

It did not matter how many times Kaidan traveled through a mass relay. The approach and subsequent reordering of reality never failed to astound him. Consequently, when Joker initiated the transmission sequence and made his final calculations, Kaidan was right there in the cockpit, leaning against a bulkhead and watching the view out the shutters.

Behind him he could hear a heavy pair of boots treading towards the cockpit. Chief Williams appeared in his peripheral, her eyes wide and curious. Serving planetside he didn't imagine she'd had many opportunities to experience a relay jump.

The massive silhouette of the relay loomed large, an enormous but elegant prothean relic that had utterly changed the course of humanity. As they made their final approach the giant oscillating rings began to spin, churning a web of blue energy that made Kaidan's most powerful biotic display seem like a firefly trying to outshine the sun. Instinctively his muscles tensed, as though bracing himself would make any difference if something went wrong.

The _Normandy_ hummed in greeting as the mass effect field lashed out and ensnared the ship, propelling them down the relay's fluted nose and into a virtually mass-free corridor of space, like an interstellar slingshot. The stars shivered violently under the blue trellis of dark energy before everything – including the stars – vanished and reformed into the thick, billowing gases of the Serpent Nebula.

Williams exhaled with obvious delight, Kaidan with imperceptible relief. When you didn't understand the technology you were using, he always counted himself lucky when it worked. Their impromptu Gunnery Chief apparently had no such reservations; once they cleared the relay she gripped the back of Joker's seat under her long fingers in her haste to get a better view, inadvertently rocking him backwards. He shot a venomous look over his shoulder which she promptly ignored, instead craning her neck and rocking forward on the balls of her feet. A few strands of her long, dark hair floated loose from the hasty bun that still looked damp in places from a recent shower.

Ashley Williams. Kaidan could still feel her hands yanking the back of his hardsuit, see the scorch marks crisscrossing the ground that should have been his skull. Without Ashley Williams, Kaidan was a dead man, and he wasn't sure how to process that yet.

She was still stuck in the ill-fitting fatigues the requisition's officer had scrounged up for her, not to mention those hideous armored boots, but if she was bothered by it at all it didn't show. Other than a tightness at the corner of her eyes and a little too much staccato in her step (though to be fair, that could have been the boots), Kaidan would never have guessed that 48 hours ago she'd been knee deep in death, the sole survivor of nearly thirty men.

"Look at that!" she exclaimed, pointing over Joker's shoulder.

"I see it," he said irritably, swiping at her hand. "Watch out, I'm driving here."

The metallic gleam of the Citadel emerged slowly from the nebulous haze. Like the mass relays, it never failed to humble even the initiated. The seven billion ton structure was the largest known deep space station, a solitary beacon wrapped in a blanket of blue-lit gas and debris, nearly impossible to reach without the aid one of the several relays paths funneling to it. Kaidan couldn't fathom the effort the protheans must have exerted to build it. Less than thirty years ago humanity hadn't even known it existed. Now it was the center of galactic politics, home to over 13 million people of nearly every known spacefaring species, humanity included.

From the central ring of the Presidium stretched the long, concave arms of the five wards, all latticed with the frenetic lines of light and activity. Each arm was nearly 350 meters wide, a whopping 43 kilometers long and engendered its own unique, microcosmical community that according to Kaidan's XO on the _Bangladesh_ were as elitist and seedy as any major city found on Earth.

In its standard formation the Citadel arms opened wide enough to fit a triangular rift of space between each, roughly as wide as the arms themselves. Though Kaidan had never heard of it actually happening, supposedly the arms could fan open until they were nearly in the same plane as the ring, or seal shut to create an impermeable, cylindrical shell.

"Hell of a place."

"Shepard," Kaidan said, whirling around in surprise. The commander stood behind him with his arms crossed casually across his chest, weight shifted to his right as he gazed out the shutter with an unreadable expression on his face. It was a look Kaidan had come to associate with Shepard, who had a maddening knack for analyzing a situation without giving away the slightest hint what he was thinking.

Kaidan hadn't seen him since he'd emerged from the med bay, but aside from the dark circles under his eyes he looked none the worse for wear. Shepard nodded a greeting, but otherwise kept his gaze trained on the shutters.

"Citadel control, this is _SSV Normandy_, requesting permission to dock," Joker announced through the comm, ordering everyone else in the cockpit to shut up with a glare.

"_SSV Normandy, this is Citadel Control. Standby for clearance." _

A handful of ships drifted just outside of the Citadel arms, several frigates mixed with a couple of cruisers, all dwarfed in size by a dreadnaught with a massive drive core. The sheer density of it, accented by four fins jutting out from each side like the points of a compass, a distinctly asari design, would have been far more impressive had they encountered it before the dreadnaught on Eden Prime.

"That thing is huge," Williams said in hushed tones.

"It's the _Destiny Ascension,_" Kaidan told her. "Flagship of the Citadel fleet." According to the extranet that monster crewed 10,000 people, and had more firepower than all the other ships in the fleet combined.

"Size isn't everything," Joker muttered, lovingly stroking a console with his fingers. Williams rolled her eyes.

"Someone's touchy."

"I'm just saying. I bet it takes month to calculate burn vectors on a ship like that. I'll take the _Normandy's _maneuverability over that tank any day."

"_SSV Normandy, you have been granted clearance. Begin your final approach. Transferring you to an Alliance operator." _

"Roger, Control. _Normandy_ out."

The wing of Tayseri Ward yawned beneath them as the _Normandy _glided towards the docking facilities along the Presidium ring, weaving in and out of Citadel traffic lanes. This close Kaidan could see the spike of the Citadel Tower bisecting the ring. He did not envy Anderson and Shepard's task of dealing with the Council. Kaidan had never met the human ambassador, but if his personality at all resembled the gruff, nasal disdain projected in the vids the Captain would be lucky to get through the meeting without someone's face smashed against a bulkhead. Shepard _hated_ politicians.

Anderson hailed them through the comm. "_Shepard, Williams, Alenko. Meet me in the airlock as soon as we're cleared to disembark."_

Shepard sighed a little, motioning for Kaidan and Williams to follow. Williams pulled herself reluctantly away from the view, tucking the escaped stands of her hair back behind her ear. "My sister's going to freak out when I tell her about this," she said with a grin.

The _Normandy_ shuddered as the docking clamps took hold. An hour later the four of them were standing in the airlock as the ship's VI dutifully informed them it was synching interior pressure with exterior atmosphere. Kaidan fidgeted a little, shifting his weight from foot to foot with an occasionally sideways glance at Anderson. If the Captain's expression was any indication, his communication with Ambassador Udina before their arrival had not gone spectacularly well. Shepard, as usual, was unreadable. Only Williams seemed blissfully unaware of the tension.

The crank and clatter of docking bay activity greeted them when the airlock finally cycled open. Dockworkers shouted back and forth over the sibilance of hydraulics, mingled with the zip of cabling being dragged from ship to ship, the crack of welding torches and echo of maintenance equipment, all muddied into a cavernous blur of sound. They exited onto the long steel catwalk and entered an elevator to Citadel Security, sealing off the cacophony as the door clamped shut.

The low light and sculpted contours of C-Sec was a sharp contrast to the docking bay but just as active. The expansive atrium was a hive of activity, new arrivals waiting in long lines, people entering and exiting the various elevators to the Wards. Officers wearing the distinctive C-Sec uniform – mostly turian, but a few other council and even non-council races – hurried back and forth between offices that branched off from either side. A pair of trees, asari in origin by the looks of them, guarded the docking bay elevators, an unexpected flourish to the efficient but drab architecture.

Thankfully Anderson had somehow gotten their clearance process expedited, earning them the glares of others still standing in line as they went through the screening process, registered their sidearms and were ushered quickly towards the Presidium access elevator. It didn't take much to get Ward access, but the Presidium was a much more restricted area, far more affluent than the Wards and home to the Council itself. Its Taurus-style ring was not unlike Arcturus in shape, but that was where the similarities ended. Where the Alliance military hub was constructed to meet a basic standard of living and little more, entering the Presidium was like falling into the lap of luxury.

Green parkland, intermingled with sprawling lakes and perfectly manicured trees, cut a swath through the Presidium's center, spanned by a series of slender crisscrossing bridges. The sleek, curved walls were lined with open air shops, restaurants and various embassies, all basking under the simulated light of an artificial blue sky. When Kaidan closed his eyes and inhaled even the recycled air felt real and fresh in his lungs. A handful of skycars zoomed past, all of them makes and models that undoubtedly carried a higher pricetag than what Kaidan could expect from ten years of Alliance income.

Because of its proximity to the center of spin, gravity was lighter here than in the wards, and his first few steps were disorienting until he got used to it. Anderson appeared impervious to both the gravity and the resort-like atmosphere, heading straight towards the human embassies about a hundred meters to their left.

Kaidan leaned conspiratorially toward Williams, who was similarly agape, not paying any heed to where she was going. "I hear they even simulate a sunset and nightfall," he said. "Wouldn't that be a sight? When's the last time you saw a sunset?"

"Two days ago," Williams replied.

Kaidan clamped his mouth shut. _Idiot_.

Humanity's embassy shared a multi-story structure with the elcor, of all people. A few of the four-legged, heavy-bodied creatures ambled about the open foyer, their distinctive monotone voices droning over the din. If Kaidan was bothered by the low gravity of the Presidium, the elcor had to just hate it. Though the words "affluent" and "elcor" hardly seemed to go together, the rich, ornate fabric they wore around their thick, muscular legs and over their broad backs clearly stated he was wrong.

Amidst the bustle of the embassy Kaidan was surprised to see a squat, four legged aphid creature worked the haptic keys of a low set terminal with a pair of spindly arms. It gave no heed to the lumbering elcor stumping around it, nor anyone else for that matter.

"Huh," he said aloud. But no one else was listening.

An asari with uncomfortably forced enthusiasm manned the reception desk at the center of the embassy foyer. Anderson spoke to her briefly, then gestured for Shepard to follow him towards a staircase to the upper level. "You two stay close," he informed Kaidan and Williams. "Ambassador Udina may want to speak to you about what happened."

"Yes, sir," Kaidan replied. Shepard cast a pained look over his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs. Once they were gone Kaidan exhaled in relief.

"Hey, what's that thing?" Williams asked, pointing to the same creature Kaidan had noticed moments ago. Before Kaidan could stop her she walked right up to it, squatting down to its level. The creature ignored her completely.

"Please don't disrupt the keepers," a recorded voice chimed. The Citadel VI, an asari-shaped projection that introduced itself as Avina, had shimmered to life on an adjacent terminal at their approach.

"What are they?" Ashley asked, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest.

"The keepers are the enigmatic caretakers of the Citadel," the VI said serenely. "You may see them involved in various tasks in all areas of the Citadel. Please do not interfere with them in any way. Because the keepers are essential to the smooth operation of the Citadel, obstructing their daily work will result in harsh penalties, including incarceration and rehabilitation."

"Rehabilitation," Williams scoffed. "Right."

Intrigued, Kaidan scanned another entry from the VI's database. Sapient, incommunicative but non-threatening creatures that had been maintaining the Citadel presumably since the protheans had built it. They moved about the Citadel however they pleased, sometimes coming and going using undiscoverable routes.

Well, that was a little creepy. They were living on a station being maintained by a race that had been wandering around for 50,000 years on their own and didn't talk or even acknowledge anyone on it. And in all the stories you heard about the Citadel, they never came up. Strange that something so odd and undiscoverable could fade so easily into the background.

"Come on," Williams said suddenly, grabbing him by the arm. The keepers had lost her interest as abruptly as they had found it.

"Whoa, where are we going? Anderson said to wait here."

She made a face. "He didn't say wait _here,_ he said stay _close._ Now come on. There are a ton of shops here, and I need to get myself some clothes so I can look a little less like a giant tool."

Kaidan snorted. "You think either of us can afford anything we find _here?_"

"There's got to be an Alliance kiosk somewhere. _Close,"_ she added when she saw his expression. "Come on, LT. Live a little. Not only are we on the Citadel, we're on the _Presidium_. Think we'll ever get to poke around here again? Let's go."

Kaidan thought again of her grip on his back, altering his trajectory, the coppery tang of burnt metal. Saving his life had come so naturally to her, so easily. For her it was almost an afterthought, for him it meant continued existence.

_Live a little._

He went.

* * *

The C-Sec uniform was usually all it took to get what he needed from a file clerk. But Garrus Vakarian was learning quickly that to be a Spectre file clerk you apparently needed the ego of a damn Spectre. He tapped his talons impatiently on the pristine counter, resisting the urge to grab the salarian sitting behind it and rip the fleshy horns right off his head. The impervious clerk blinked his amphibious eyes, the rounded bulbs of his fingers skimming the haptic keys for what had to be an exaggerated length of time.

Despite the uniform, the grating counter tapping and his best don't-mess-with-C-Sec expression, the biofeedback readouts on Garrus' visor informed him that the salarian felt about as threatened as a krogan being taunted by a pyjack.

"I'm sorry, Officer Vakarian," the salarian said finally, his treble tone not sounding sorry at all. "That information is also classified."

"Oh for the—Nihlus is _dead_. There has to be something in those files that isn't classified."

The salarian blinked again. "Have you tried the Citadel archives?"

Garrus' mandible twitched. "Twice."

"I'm very sorry," the salarian said. "I wish there was something more I could do to help."

In moments like this Garrus almost – _almost – _understood why his father hated Spectres so much. Too much power, too few restrictions. Saren might be a criminal hiding behind his title, but at least he didn't have to deal with C-Sec's nightmarish beurocracy to get something accomplished.

It has been less than 48 hours since Executor Pallin had dropped this investigation in his lap, but already it seemed an impossible task. Every last detail of Saren's Spectre career was classified. The Council, despite their request for the investigation in the first place, refused to answer questions. Saren's former military connections wouldn't return his calls. Garrus had even dug up the name of the man who'd trained him for Basic on Palaven, only to have him clam up at the very mention of Saren's name.

Garrus splayed his talons across the counter, leaning the full weight of his armored carapace against it. To his satisfaction the salarian actually leaned back. "Saren Arterius is dirty," he said, his subharmonics dripping with frustration. "And it's people like you – "

"_Officer Nevik to Vakarian. Sir, I have a message for you from that med clinic in the upper Wards._"

Upper Ward clinic. That meant Dr. Michel. The human doctor, one of only a few licensed to treat turians. She was a sweet girl with a bad habit of falling in with the wrong people. Garrus had done a little off-the-clock PI work to solve a blackmail problem for her not long ago, the kind of work that Pallin could have his job over.

But if he'd done it Pallin's way and gone by the book, the way his father always screamed about, at best Michel would have lost her clinic, worst her life. Either way the blackmailers got off scot free. The way Garrus did it, the Wards kept a good doctor and got rid of some baggage that wouldn't be missed. Justice was done, and he didn't feel the slightest bit bad about it.

He liked Dr. Michel. He just didn't have time for her now. "Is it important, Nevik? I'm really busy at the moment." He glanced at the salarian, who had gone back to his terminal and was now ignoring him completely.

"_I'll forward you the message."_

Garrus sighed. Regardless he wasn't getting anything more out of the Spectre Archives, and he had an hour before he needed to meet with Pallin at the Tower. He'd hoped to interview the human Commander, Shepard he thought the name was, when his ship arrived, but the Alliance rep had patiently informed him that the Commander along with his CO were closeted in a meeting with the human ambassador.

Without saying goodbye he left the Spectre Archives, found himself a bench in front of a volus financial center and pulled up his omitool. Not far away, a haggard looking C-Sec officer from Enforcement was doing his best to shut up a hanar that was preaching loudly and incessantly about the Enkindlers. Garrus shook his head. Dealing with the jellyfish was something no one at C-Sec particularly enjoyed, not because of their overabundance of religious zeal so much as there was no good place on a tentacle to slap a pair of handcuffs.

After making sure there was no one in immediate earshot he pulled up the message, rerouting the audio portion through his personal comm so it wouldn't be overheard. His translator always had trouble with her thick accent, thicker than most humans he'd dealt with.

"_Garrus, It's Dr. Michel."_

The familiar sight of her humanoid face and red skull fringes popped into view through his omnitool projector. She looked distressed. Garrus' mandibles flexed. _What the hell is it this time?_

"_I didn't want to bother you again, but I don't know who else to call. I treated a quarian in my clinic yesterday morning. She…she was in trouble. She had information she wanted to trade for her safety, so I put her in touch with Fist's people-"_

Garrus groaned. How did a woman with such good intentions get tangled up with people like Fist? His name was _Fist,_ by the Spirits.

"_But I'm worried-"_

No kidding.

"_She told me what she had, and then I started seeing all these vids about the geth, and rumors about that Spectre…"_

His plates tightened.

"_I think she's in over her head. And if anyone finds out she was here, I'm afraid someone will come looking for her…and me. I don't know what to do."_

Garrus checked the signal frequency of the message to see how well it was coded and swore. She'd tried, he gave her that. But if Saren's people were looking to bury evidence her mediocre encryption job would hardly slow them down. He glanced anxiously at the chronometer in his visor display. No time to go there now. He had to make his way towards the tower to meet Pallin. At least now he might have good news once he got there.


	8. Chapter 8: Proelium Imperator

**Chapter 8 – Proelium Imperator**

Garrus' meeting with the Executor did not go as planned.

"He's dirty, Pallin. You and I both know it. I just need time to prove it! This investigation is just getting started and I-"

"There is no investigation," Pallin replied forcefully, mandibles flaring in agitation. "And you will refer to me as 'sir' or 'Executor' or I'll have your badge." The stark white clan markings on his face stood out sharply against his dress uniform, blue and purple accented with red striping that meant he'd actually been in session with the Council before Garrus arrived.

Garrus and his superior had never exactly gotten along, but it took every ounce of Garrus' restraint to keep from telling him to shove his crest up his ass. Standing in the Citadel Tower, surrounded by the opulence of the Council chambers and the preening diplomats - at least four in Garrus' peripheral vision that he had files on a meter thick - had never made him feel so dirty.

"But _sir,_ I have a lead. I just need-"

"Drop it, Garrus. That's an order."

The Executor gave him no further chance to argue, turning his back and heading towards the Presidium elevator.

"Barefaced bastard," Garrus muttered under his breath. Too late he realized there was a trio of humans standing behind him, listening to every word. Two males and a female, all wearing Alliance uniforms. The male with the almost non-existent fringe actually looked familiar.

"Investigating Saren?" the familiar looking one asked. _Shepard_, Garrus realized. The one who'd been on Eden Prime. Through the blue glow of the visor covering his left eye he took a quick read of the Commander's biorhythms, discovering he was disturbingly calm for someone about to meet with the Council about a traitor and the re-emergence of the geth.

Garrus had known a few humans during his time with C-Sec. Some were ok, some were like that two bit louse Harkin who spent more time at the bottom of a bottle than he did at his post. Though there were still plenty of turians who liked to hold a grudge against humanity for old time's sake, Garrus had never really taken issue with the soft-shelled, outspoken species. But something about this human almost made Garrus stand up and salute. He'd never had that urge in front of Pallin, even as a new recruit.

"Commander Shepard," Garrus acknowledged. The commander raised his chin slightly at the recognition. "I'm Garrus Vakarian. I _was_ investigating Saren. I don't have hard evidence, so the Executor shut me down. Saren's a Spectre. Everything he touches is classified." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

Shepard crossed his arms, a distinctly human form of body language that Garrus had encountered during his time on the Citadel.

"Sounds like you really want to bring him down."

"I don't trust him," Garrus replied, fully aware that the Presidium Tower was not the place to be airing his frustrations and refusing to care. "Every time his name comes up, it's associated with something no turian should have his talons in, Spectre or no. But without evidence, I can't prove it."

"Did I hear you say you had a lead?"

Garrus hesitated. _Careful. You're standing on the edge of a knife as it is. _"If there's no case, there's no lead."

The shorter male with a thick, dark fringe that was taller than Shepard's gave his commander a nudge. "The Council's waiting for us."

Shepard nodded, then fixed Garrus with a shrewd, piercing look. "Thanks for your efforts."

Garrus suddenly had the feeling he'd just been more thoroughly examined in those few seconds than any evaluation he'd ever faced in his career.

"Good luck," Garrus said with a tilt of his head. "Maybe they'll listen to you."

The odds of that were slim, but he had the distinct impression the Council was going to get more than they bargained for with this one.

* * *

Down in the Wards, the opulence of the presidium was replaced with the tenor of living. In the right places there was just as much glitz and glamor, but it was interlaced with the societal pitfalls that the Presidium tried so hard to fence out. The Upper Wards in particular almost seemed to take offense to their proximity to the Presidium. Garrus always got the feeling that the shop keepers in the markets here felt more compelled to extort and gouge their customers simply to console themselves for being so close yet so far from the ring's wealth. What they didn't realize was that the same thing happened on the Presidium. Only difference was the criminals there did their dirty work over wine and hors d'oeuvres, and had enough money to be sure they never got caught.

Dr. Michel's med clinic was tucked away by itself at the far end of the observation windows overlooking Shalta Ward as it stretched out into infinity before finally bleeding into the starry horizon. Hovering along its length was an ocean of light and movement, with skycars zipping to and fro amidst a maze of starscrapers, so vast and yet so infinitesimal relative to the giant gaseous cloud waiting beyond. The curved edges of the other four wards could be seen around the periphery, all just as alive as Shalta. It was understandably a view that attracted tourists and locals alike, but tonight Garrus wasn't here to see it.

Shortly after the meeting in the Tower he had contacted Dr. Michel, telling her to stay put and wait for him to arrive. But before he could go there he'd been forced to help take care of a small problem with a very large krogan mercenary who Fist insisted was trying to kill him. Since Michel had mentioned Fist in her message, he figured it was best if the sorry excuse for a human being stayed alive long enough for Garrus to find this quarian she mentioned and see if she really had something on Saren. But that meant it had taken him longer to extricate himself from C-Sec than he had planned. Now Dr. Michel wasn't answering her comm.

He hurried through the corridor, feeling rhythmic bass beats thrumming though the floor plates as he passed by the stairwell to Flux, the new casino. His brain was trying to tell him something, but he was in too much of a hurry to register what it was until he came to the med clinic door.

There was no one at the observation windows this side of the Presidium access tunnel.

_Damn it! _Garrus had been so preoccupied with hating Pallin and Saren and everyone trying to stonewall his investigation he hadn't taken the right precautions to protect the _one_ lead that he had.

The door was locked. Garrus pulled out his omnitool and requested the C-Sec decryption algorithm that would allow him to unseal the door. As soon as it started running he reached for his sidearm, wondering if opening this door without backup was going to be the dumbest – and last – thing he ever did.

It swished open almost silently. There was no hail of gunfire. Instead he heard raised voices coming from the opposite end of the clinic, just out of sight of the door. A long, curved counter separated the reception foyer from the treatment area. Garrus crouched low and crept over to the counter, listening carefully while keeping out of sight.

"I don't know where she is!"

Garrus winced at the sound of Dr. Michel's distressed cry. One look at the biofeed on his visor told him her heart rate was through the roof. It also told him there were four men with her, all human. The LADAR – and his own common sense – told him they were armed. He gripped his pistol tighter, vehemently wishing he had a rifle.

"Fist thinks you talked," one of them growled.

"I didn't tell anyone, I swear!"

"Good. That was smart. Now if Garrus comes poking his beak around here, you better stay smart. Or else we'll-"

The door swished open again, the milky light of the wards washing through the reception. Three shadows draped over him. Reflexively Garrus whipped his head over his shoulder.

_Shepard_?

There wasn't time to dwell on it further. Shepard and his Alliance companions hadn't come to the med clinic expecting a fight. Shepard looked around in the open doorway, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darker interior. Just long enough to be noticed.

"Who the _hell are you_?"

One of the thugs was apparently now within eyesight of the door. Garrus heard Michel shriek. In one quick breath he rose from cover, using his visor to triangulate the shot even as he turned and aimed his pistol. The thug had wrapped a forearm around Dr. Michel's neck and pointed a gun at Shepard's face, no idea that Garrus was even there. _Now's your chance!_

_Crack!_

The slug hit Michel's captor right between the eyes. She screamed as his now dead-weight nearly dragged her to the ground with him. Frantically she ducked her shoulder and squirmed away, back peddling from the body. Garrus felt a flush of pride over the shot, then quickly remembered there were three other armed men in the room.

Out of the coroner of his eye he caught a flash of blue. He barely had time to recognize that one of Shepard's men was a biotic before an angry whorl of dark energy snaked past his head. At the same time Shepard vaulted over the counter, not giving a second glance to the man who was now suspended helplessly in mid-air. The muzzle of a pistol flashed, the shot ricocheting off Shepard's kinetic barrier with a crackle. The Alliance commander bore the impact without breaking stride, grabbed the shocked thug by collar of his shirt and threw him forcefully into the third. Garrus heard the crack of another pistol, as the female human calmly dropped them both with two well-placed shots.

Shepard glanced over his shoulder. She shrugged.

"You were having all the fun."

Garrus slid his sidearm back in its holster with a click, feeling better than he had in months. He'd made some nice shots in his time, but that one definitely cracked the top ten. "Perfect timing, Shepard," he said. "You gave me a clear shot at that bastard."

Shepard eyed him with that same careful expression he'd worn in the Tower. "That was risky," he said, and Garrus wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a rebuke. "You could have hit the hostage."

_But I didn't_, he wanted to argue. Though he was forced to admit it hadn't exactly occurred to him what might have happened if he had.

"I-" he started, then sighed in frustration and looked over at Dr. Michel, who stood now with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, red fringe hanging about her face in disarray, trying very hard not to look at the bodies on her floor. "Dr. Michel, are you all right?"

"Yes," she said after a long pause and a deep breath. "I'm fine. Thanks to you. All of you."

"Who were those men? Why were they threatening you?" Shepard asked. It was at that moment Garrus realized he had no idea how or why Shepard was even here.

"Fist's men," she said. "He owns Chora's Den, the club on the other side of the markets." She glanced uneasily at Garrus. "They wanted to shut me up about the quarian."

Garrus tilted his head. "But I thought you sent the quarian to him?"

She nodded, running her hand absently up and down her left arm. "She had information she wanted to trade for her safety. Fist is an agent for the Shadow Broker."

"Not anymore," Shepard interrupted. Garrus and Michel stared at him. He seemed almost surprised at their sudden interest. "Fist works for Saren now. And I don't think the Shadow Broker is too happy about it."

Garrus worked his mandible, wondering how in the hell this human, who had never set foot on the Citadel before this morning, suddenly had a better handle on things than he did.

"Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?" Michel asked. "That's _stupid_, even for him!"

"How do you know that?" Garrus demanded.

Shepard looked nonplussed. "I met with a volus banker on the Presidium. Turns out the Broker isn't very pleased."

"Barla Von, I'll bet," Garrus muttered under his breath. Shepard nodded.

The human female grinned and smacked her fist into her palm. "Apparently the Broker wants Saren 'taken care of.'"

The other human elbowed her, eyebrows furrowed. C-Sec had made Garrus somewhat adept at reading human expression – for a turian, at least – but there were still plenty of intricacies that eluded him, especially where the eyebrows were concerned. Eyebrows were a unique human feature that Garrus still couldn't interpret or find the advantage of.

"Von indicated the Broker hired a krogan mercenary to handle the problem," Shepard continued.

"Wrex," Garrus muttered, recalling the monstrous hump of the krogan mercenary they'd detained. Urdnot Wrex wasn't just a krogan. He was a full blown _battlemaster_. Everyone in C-Sec was afraid to so much as touch him, and the krogan had known it. They wouldn't hold him long, though if they were really brave they might have tried to take his shotgun away. Quickly Garrus pulled up his omnitool and scrolled through the most recent C-Sec reports. His mandible twitched.

"We had him detained in C-Sec, but it looks like he was released about twenty minutes ago. If we're going to talk to Fist, we probably need to do it fast. The Shadow Broker pays well, and a krogan like this one isn't going to worry too much about the legal repercussions of shooting him."

Shepard nodded at Dr. Michel. "You said Fist owns that place Chora's Den?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

Shepard turned to go, then paused and looked back over his shoulder, head cocked to the side as he raised one of those infuriating human eyebrows. It took Garrus a moment to realize he was being invited along.

Somewhere in the back of his head he heard the echo of his father's voice, subharmonics brash with admonition. Going with Shepard would mean hell to pay with Pallin, maybe even the end of his career. But Garrus was pretty sure he'd started down that path all on his own, just by walking into this med clinic.

He went.

* * *

Chora's Den was a dive tucked into a forgotten corner of the Upper Wards. From the chrome lined walkway leading to the entrance Shepard could see neon lights throwing off unflattering halos of distorted color. Poorly placed speakers tuned just loud enough to be uncomfortable played a never ending beat that always sounded the same. They had to edge between two krogan bouncers who savagely eyed their sidearms to even get through the doors. Inside an expansive circular bar took up the center of the room, while the circumference was lined with tables and dancing platforms where scantily clad asari danced and shimmied around a pole, their blue skin taking on an occasional purple hue under the mingling glare of the lights. Shepard felt dirty just walking in.

The clientele covered nearly every known species represented on the Citadel, though it was slanted more in the favor of humans and turians. Shepard always found it amusing that while at first glance humanity had little in common with the turians, once you got past the surface their motivations were uncomfortably similar.

To his left he heard Alenko's exhale of disgust and couldn't help but smirk. The LT had probably never been caught dead walking past a place like this, much less in. Shepard had frequented a few in the days after Torfan. There was nothing like plunging yourself into the rot of humanity to realize where you ranked amongst them.

Williams on the other hand shifted her weight from foot to foot, a predatory expression on her face, hand never straying far from her holster. Someone like Williams was just waiting for an excuse to set a place like this on fire. Shepard hoped this krogan – or Fist for that matter – didn't give her exactly what she was looking for.

Behind her Garrus stood silently, almost as though he expected to be forgotten. The turian C-Sec officer seemed eager to please – too eager to please – reeking of someone desperately searching for his place in the universe and constantly turning to the first thing that caught his eye in hopes of finding it. Turians were supposedly known for their strict military doctrine, but Shepard's first impression of Garrus was that this was a man who preferred the end to the means rather than the other way around. That kind of personality could be dangerous, something Shepard knew from firsthand experience, but when you were dealing with someone like Saren it had its advantages. And Shepard was in desperate need of advantages.

The meeting with the Council had not gone well. Shepard had a short fuse when it came to politicians, something Anderson had always berated him for, and going into the Tower with the nightmare from the beacon still muddying his brain had made it that much worse. It was bad enough the Council refused to show any sense of alarm over the sudden appearance of the geth or the near annihilation of a human colony. But they followed it up by dismissing any notion of Saren's guilt with a wave of their hand while Saren looked on via holo, sneering at Shepard and more specifically Anderson, which Shepard found troubling. It was not the first time Shepard sensed he wasn't getting the full story, but the Captain had refused to talk about it.

Ambassador Udina, surprisingly, had vehemently gone to bat for them, his sallow face erupting in anger at the Council's passive stance and razing their support of their Spectre. It made Shepard wonder how blind they forced themselves to be about their operatives. Spectres existed so the Council could do things that they weren't exactly sanctioned to do, turning a blind eye to what needed to be done to ensure peace and order. The amount of cybernetics Saren had crammed into his face was alarming, and Shepard wasn't even sure if the Council noticed it.

He glanced around, looking for the krogan Garrus had described to them, but the only ones in sight were the two bouncers they'd passed on the way in. _Good. We're here first_. That would hopefully make things a little easier.

A bartender came to their table to see if they wanted drinks. Williams gave him a deathly stare that quickly informed him his services were unneeded. As soon as he hurried off she fixated the same stare on the asari grinding against a pole a few feet away, as though she held her singularly responsible for the degradation of women across the galaxy.

"You take us to all the nice places, Commander," she muttered in disgust. "A million light years away from where humanity began and we walk into a bar full of men drooling over half naked women shaking their ass."

"What," Alenko said, scraping at a stain on the tabletop. "You don't think they're just here for the food?"

Williams stared at him for a second, then laughed.

Shepard chanced a quick glance back at the doors. The krogan were gone.

That couldn't be good.

"Come on," he said. Alenko followed Shepard's gaze and shot to his feet. Williams already had her hand on her sidearm and Garrus made a quick adjustment to the targeting visor he wore. It was a high end piece of equipment far beyond standard issue that looked custom modded. No, Shepard thought, that shot in the med clinic hadn't been lucky.

They didn't have to go far. In the walkway outside the club there were now three krogan, the two bouncers and a third, monstrous krogan with a bright red skull crest and a jagged map of scars running across the right side of his broad, reptilian face.

Shepard had run into a few krogan before, including a few in close quarters on Torfan, but this was easily the largest he'd ever seen. Though his small, wide set eyes stood just a shade higher than Shepard's, his massive shoulder hump made him well over seven feet tall.

The two bouncers had drawn ERCS shotguns. Decent guns, but paltry next to the krogan mercenary they were pointed at. Urdnot Wrex was armed only with a pistol, but seemed completely unconcerned.

"C-Sec confiscated his other weapons," Garrus said in a low, flanging voice, as though reading Shepard's thoughts.

"Then he might need our help." Shepard drew his own pistol, thankful he'd had the foresight to change into his armor after the Council meeting. Wandering around like he was looking for a battlefield had seemed a little strange at first, but strange was better than dead.

"Back off, Wrex," one of the krogan said. "Make one move on Fist and you're as good as dead."

Urdot Wrex laughed, a deep, guttural sound. "Tell him I'm offering him a quick, painless death. He doesn't want to take it, fine. We'll make it loud and messy."

The krogan bouncer raised his shotgun. Shepard heard Alenko suck in a breath as a blue corona enveloped Wrex's body. This wasn't just a krogan. This was a goddamned Battlemaster.

Shepard fired his gun, hitting grip of the krogan's shotgun with a clank and knocking it out his unprepared hand. As he and the other bouncer looked to see where the shot had come from Wrex heaved a wall of writhing dark energy, hitting the now disarmed krogan with incredible force. The shearing, crippling forces of the mass effect field knocked him to the ground, where Wrex disposed of him with one well-placed shot between the eyes.

Garrus took care of the remaining krogan, and for a second time Shepard found himself impressed by the turian's skill. Shepard wasn't just a good marksman – he was a great one. But after just two shots Shepard thought Garrus could give him a run for his money.

Wrex turned his sharp gaze on Shepard, dark pupils forming narrow slits inside blood-red irises. "Can I help you human?" he said gruffly. There was no thank you. No acknowledgement of what had just happened. If anything, Shepard thought the krogan was disappointed they'd showed up.

"I understand you're looking for Fist," Shepard said.

"What of it?"

"I thought we could help each other."

The krogan angled his gaze slightly, the deep rents on his face catching the glow from an overhead light. "You're after the quarian."

Shepard's nodded. "That's right. I'm after Saren, and this quarian might have something I need."

Wrex's posture relaxed slightly, and the towering figure took a few lumbering steps towards them. He could sense Williams and Alenko tighten.

"Whatever it is, it must be big for someone like Fist to betray the Shadow Broker." Wrex's gaze roved over them, hovering briefly on Garrus, then came to rest on Shepard once more. "I know who you are. Your face is all over the vids. You've chosen a dangerous enemy, human."

Shepard shrugged. "When I choose an enemy, it dies."

The krogan's scaly lips peeled back in a fearsome grin that revealed a set of dangerously sharp teeth. "Then we may have something in common." He glared at Garrus. "C-Sec relieved me of my guns. Those krogan were little more than cannon fodder, but I'm sure there will be more firepower between me and Fist. If you help me get to him, the quarian is all yours. But be warned. I will kill him. Get in my way, and I won't hesitate to kill you, too."

Shepard crossed his arms. "Fair enough."

By the time they returned to Chora's Den the club was eerily quiet. Though the music still blared the remaining patrons did little more than stare into their drinks, and several of the dancers had left their posts. Shepard headed for the back of the bar, where there appeared to be a back room of some kind – hopefully Fist's office. It was locked.

"Garrus, can you get this open?" Shepard asked.

"Yes," the turian replied, and pulled out his omnitool. One of the bartenders, a young human girl with short, thick red hair wearing about as much clothing as the asari dancers, gave them a nervous look. Shepard shook his head very slowly at her. Meekly she snuck to the other side of the bar. An 'if I don't see it, it didn't happen' approach. Good.

Shepard detected weapons signatures on the other side of the door. When it slid open they found four humans, all wearing cheap Elkoss Combine armor and carrying even cheaper weapons. Alenko knocked one back with a plume of biotic energy – just hard enough to stun him. Upon seeing the five well-armed creatures before them the other three wilted. Shepard held up a hand, telling everyone to stand down. Thankfully even Wrex listened.

"This is more than you signed up for," Shepard informed them. The one Alenko had knocked to the floor was now sitting up with a groan.

The one that appeared to be the leader nodded, face drained of all color, and bolted out the door into the bar. The others quickly followed, the injured one taking a few drunken steps before finding his balance once more.

They had entered some kind of storage room. Behind it was another locked door, which Garrus swiftly opened. Shepard couldn't help but be unimpressed at Fists's precautions. If this man took living seriously, it didn't show.

At least until Garrus hacked through the door lock and they came face to face with a pair of turrets that immediately opened fire.

Shepard dove to the side, shoving Williams to the floor and away from the sudden, incessant stream of bullets. Biotic barriers immediately crystalized around Wrex and Alenko, sending several slugs ricocheting off with a series of sharp _pings. _Alenko cursed as he reached for a pocket of tech mines that weren't there – because who the hell expected a face full of _turret_ on the Citadel – and hurled himself behind the cover of a nearby bulkhead where he whipped out his omnitool and began feverishly working his fingers.

Garrus held his pistol to his chest, inhaled, then leaned out of cover and fired two quick shots. One hit the firing servo of the closest turret, which sputtered and died. The remaining turret suddenly sparked, the gun sputtering as Alenko managed to create his own tech mine by forcing an overload charge out of his omnitool. Wrex took advantage of the turret's momentary stutter and charged at it, knocking a table out of his way and wrapping his viselike grip around the turret's double barrel, mangling it with his bare hands.

A thin layer of acrid smoke drifted through the air. Shepard waited for one of the turrets to spin up again, but all that came was a tortured sounding clunk. With a grunt he pushed himself back up to his feet, then offered his hand to Williams, who was rubbing her ribs. "Next time offer me dinner first, huh?" she said. Shepard clapped her on the back.

There was no sign of Fist or the mysterious quarian. Fist's desk still stood between the smoking remains of the turret, the smell of overheated gears mingling with that of stale beer and the cigarette butts heaped in an ashtray beside the computer terminal, which appeared to be intact. "Garrus, see if you can get access to any of the files on his computer. See where he might be."

Garrus didn't hesitate, and Shepard found himself surprised both at how naturally he had given the order and how naturally the C-Sec officer had followed it.

Alenko gripped the edge of the overturned table. Williams took the other end and helped him set it upright.

"Well?" Wrex said impatiently.

Garrus's mandible twitched. "Give me a second. I've almost got something. Wait. Here. Looks like he was going to meet someone in an alley at…damn. Now." He glanced up at Shepard. "It mentions the quarian."

Shepard swore. "This was all just a diversion. Do you know where the alley is?"

Garrus nodded. "Between here and the markets. It's not far. Maybe we still have time."

"Come on!"

As Shepard followed a turian and a krogan on their way to help him rescue a quarian, he decided this might be the weirdest day of his life.


	9. Chapter 9: Profugus

**Chapter 9 – Profugus**

Tali Zorah nar Rayya was in trouble. She sensed it before Fist even showed up, but there was no getting it out of it now. Three of his mercenaries were blocking the exits. In a glorious statement of the obvious, her enviro suit informed her that her heart rate was exceeding recommended limits and her biorhythms showed signs of stress. _Stupid girl_, she thought to herself. _You have no one but yourself to blame for this._

The alley where they were supposed to make the exchange was narrow and cluttered with storage crates bathed in the red sheen of overhead light panels. The optical sensors in her faceplate compensated for the light level, but did nothing for her sense of unease.

The data disc in her left pocket felt like a lead weight. She half considered snapping it in half, ridding herself of the data that was about to get her killed, but doing so would make her useless and therefore disposable. At least with it she had a bargaining chip and a chance. Though she was becoming increasingly aware that that chance was very, very remote.

Keelah_, Father. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing_.

She fingered the spot on her side where her suit had been patched. She still ached where Dr. Michel had removed Jacobus's bullet, and her head swam with fever. The antibiotics were helping, but not quickly enough. Halfheartedly she wondered if the _Honorata _had been discovered on Ilium yet, and if her father knew. There had been no way to get a message to him. And even if she had, he never would have been able to get to her in time. Last time she had checked the Flotilla had been somewhere in the Kepler Verge, some four relay jumps away.

Tali was on her own, carrying a data disc in her pocket with enough evidence to take down a Spectre and threaten the peace of the entire galaxy.

_You are Rael Zorah's daughter,_ she told herself. _You can do this_.

Keenah's shotgun hung heavily across the back of her waist when Fist entered the alleyway, flanked by two turians and a human. He smiled demurely when he saw her. Tali felt her skin creep. By himself Fist was not terribly intimidating. He had a square, clueless face and strangely styled hair that was cropped in a perfectly flat plane several inches above his head. Tali wasn't sure if he looked ridiculous because she just wasn't used to humans (quarians' only way of judging one another's appearance was by their suits), or if it was because he was the kind of person who wanted to look intimidating and just didn't know how.

The guns that followed him around, however, were very intimidating.

"Did you bring it?" Fist asked.

Her blood pressure feeds shot into the red. "Where's the Shadow Broker?" she demanded.

"He'll be here." He traced the contours of her hood and the line of her shoulder with a seductive sweep of his hand, standing close enough that her suit sensors were able to analyze his breath and detect traces of sulfenic acid. "Where's the evidence?"

She swatted his hand away. "No way," she said vehemently. "The deal's off."

Fist backed away slowly, his expression darkening. One glance from him and she heard every thug in the room charge their weapon.

She could not get to the exits. But she might be able to take a few of these _bosh'tets_ with her. Taking a deep breath, she flipped a small tech mine out of her right pocket and threw it to the ground at their feet, simultaneously diving towards a pile of crates. The ensuing explosion overloaded their kinetic shielding with a sharp hiss and set off a bright orange flare, knocking a few of the men, including Fist, off their feet.

Gunfire ensued. But to her shock, it wasn't directed at her. Through the thin, gray smoke left behind from the mine she saw a new human, wearing an Alliance hardsuit, flanked by two more Alliance, a turian and…a _krogan?_

A crossfire of bullets sliced through the claustrophobic alleyway. It was over quickly, leaving a mess of corpses on the floor and indiscriminate gore splattered across the walls. Fist was the only one left alive, kneeling on the floor, shaking arms behind his head. Tali thought she heard him weeping. She smirked. Above him stood the krogan, who pointed Fist's own shotgun at his face.

"The Shadow Broker sends his regards," he rumbled, then pulled the trigger. Tali inhaled sharply as Fist's head morphed into a pulpy mass of dripping red bone fragments, charred flesh and ruptured greymatter. The human, who appeared to be in charge, fixed her with a blue-eyed gaze so sharp she thought he might be able to see right through her helmet. She scrambled to her feet when he took a step forward.

"Relax," he said, stowing his weapon and holding up both hands. "We're here to help you. Are you all right?"

She nodded, glad he couldn't see how badly she was shaking inside her suit. "Fist set me up," she sputtered. "I knew I couldn't trust him."

He nodded. "He was going to give you to Saren."

Her hand flew protectively to her left suit pocket. Everyone else tensed, assuming she was going for another mine. She removed her hand. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Commander Shepard," he said. "Alliance military. I think we might be able to help each other."

Suspicion crept into her voice. "How so?"

"I'm looking for evidence that proves Saren's a traitor. If you can help me with that, I can protect you."

Briefly Tali thought about reaching for her (_Keenah's_) shotgun and trying to run. But she had been running for days without success, and if Saren knew what she had she was going to end up just like Keenah. Besides, in every way that Fist had seemed untrustworthy Shepard seemed genuine. And he had just saved her life.

But she wanted more than protection.

"I can," she said, trying to visualize her father addressing the Admiralty Board. _Speak with confidence and you'll be surprised how many people listen, _he'd told her. "On one condition."

Shepard cocked his head, intrigued. "Name it."

"Whatever you do with my evidence, I go with you."

Behind him the human female guffawed, and Tali felt her confidence evaporate. "A _quarian? _On an Alliance ship? Are you out of your mind?"

Shepard ignored her. "Why?"

Tali drew in a deep breath. _He's still listening, just like Father said. _"What I have connects Saren to the geth. And something worse. You want Saren, I want information about the geth." She wavered, forced herself to continue. "Can we work together?"

"Yes," he said, never taking his gaze off Tali. The speed of his accession astonished her, and she wasn't the only one.

"Commander-"

"Enough, Williams, I'll make it happen," Shepard said harshly. Williams fell silent. "What's your name?" he asked.

Tali hesitated, but only for a moment. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," she replied. "But you can call me Tali."

"Tali," he said, extending his hand. She eyed it warily. Even with the protection of her suit the practice of limiting physical contact with others was deeply ingrained. Shepard seemed to take notice, and retracted his hand. "Sorry," he said. "Human custom."

"Let's get somewhere safe," the other Alliance human suggested. "Ambassador Udina can protect you until we get your information to the Council."

Safety. And this time it might not be a lie. For the first time since the _Honorata _had detoured through the Crescent Nebula she thought maybe things would be ok.

* * *

Captain Anderson and Ambassador Udina were waiting for Shepard when he arrived at Udina's office, a wide, spacious area furnished with little more than a long, narrow desk and a few chairs. Along the walls a couple of extranet displays scrolled muted newsfeeds and near the door hung some uninspiring artwork of an unknown origin. The rear of the office opened up to a balcony overlooking the Presidium, where echoes of distant chatter and the intermittent whoosh of skycars zipping past interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

Nothing about the space gave the slightest hint to what kind of man Udina was. There was no art, no photos of a wife or family, no diplomas or awards hanging in frames. Whether that was by choice or oversight was unknown, but Shepard guessed it was the former. Udina didn't strike him as the kind who liked to give anyone any kind of insight or advantage.

Though there were plenty of chairs, none of them sat. Anderson paced the room in agitation while Udina looked on from behind his conspicuously clean desk, wearing his usual expression of disapproval. Udina was a narrowly built man with a receding hairline, close set eyes and a nasal voice that only got more irritating when he shouted, which he did often. But this time he was silent. It was Anderson who was about to blow a gasket.

"Do you mean to tell me that the body count down in the Wards I'm hearing about involved my XO?"

Shepard's eyes followed Anderson's movement. "Believe me, none of those 'bodies' is anyone that'll be missed." It was the wrong answer and Shepard knew it, but it was the truth, and there was too much bullshit between them and the truth to add another layer.

Anderson swiveled on his heel, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "I should throw you in the brig."

"Saren's a traitor," Shepard argued. "I needed proof and I got it. The Council should be thanking me. Sir." He folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

"Normally I would agree with Captain Anderson," Udina said dryly, unexpectedly supporting Shepard, "but we need to know what you found."

Shepard went to the closed door and released the lock. Tali stood on the other side, anxiously kneading her hands together.

Like all quarians, she was completely cocooned inside a close fitting, ornate enviro suit, face covered by a nearly opaque purple tinted faceplate through which the golden slits of her pupils were all that was visible. Over her head she wore a matching hood embroidered with intricate, light colored swirls – whether they were of quarian significance or simply ornamental design Shepard didn't know. Her voice was filtered through a circular mouthpiece that added a flanging effect similar to that of a turian, but without the natural social inflections. There was something gypsy-like about her, from the colorful suit to the melodic lilt of her voice.

Shepard had never met a quarian before Tali. The nomadic species rarely strayed from the Migrant Fleet, and their sprawling, patchwork flotilla did not often intersect with human controlled space. But he did not need to see Tali's face or hear her voice to know she was young. It was in the way she carried herself, the body language of someone who had no idea what the galaxy was about to spring on her or what she was going to do about it. Yet here she was, determined to figure it out. Shepard offered her an encouraging smile and gestured for her to come in.

Even with the suit it was easy to see a resemblance to the geth, from the backward bow of her legs to the three thick fingers under her gloved hands. The curvature of her hood even spoke to the geth's facial cowling, though when they'd created the geth quarians hadn't needed hoods.

Udina scowled at her as though she were nothing more than a vagrant. "This had better be good."

Shepard swore he could feel her glare, saw her posture stiffen slightly. Her mouthpiece transmitted no sound, but Shepard saw her chest expand and deflate as she took a deep breath. She was out of her league and knew it, but wasn't backing down. He liked her.

"First, our deal. Shepard?"

Both Udina and Anderson swiveled their heads, and Shepard braced himself. If Anderson hadn't liked what happened in the Wards, he _really_ wasn't going to like this. He cleared his throat. "In exchange for the data, Tali wants join us."

Anderson stared at him.

"Out of the question," Udina snapped.

"She knows what she's doing," Shepard insisted, leaning against the back of Udina's desk. "I've seen her in action. And we need what she has. We want Saren, she wants the geth. It's a fair trade."

"How do we know what she has is genuine?" Anderson asked. Interesting. Of the two, Shepard had expected him to be more difficult to persuade.

"I'm right here," Tali said testily. "The data I have cannot be faked. I got it from a geth memory core. It's difficult enough to extract one without triggering it to self-destruct. Trying to tamper with it would destroy it completely."

"A geth memory core?" Udina asked, suspicious. He put his knuckles to his chin. "Where did you get it?"

"I'm on my Pilgrimage," she explained. "We were passing through the Crescent Nebula and detected a signal. When we investigated, we found the geth. We weren't in any position to engage them, but we managed to lure one away from the group and disable it."

"We? Who's we?"

She hesitated. Shepard couldn't see her agony but was shocked at how clearly he could feel it, rolling off of her in waves.

When she continued it was with forced determination. "It doesn't matter. They're dead now. It's just me left."

He thought of Dr. Michel's report, that she had been shot, and wondered just what she'd been through to get this far.

"Go on," Anderson said gently, before Udina could interject.

Tali worked her fingers, as though she didn't know what to do with her hands. "The geth managed to partially flash its core before I extracted it, but I was able to recover some data. Data that confirms Saren's plans to attack Eden Prime, and what he was looking for there."

Udina and Anderson glanced quickly at each other.

"What _was_ he looking for?" Anderson asked. "Did he find it?"

"I'm not sure…but I don't think so." She activated her omnitool and played back an audio recording. Saren's unmistakable voice crackled to life, and Shepard felt a small chill race up his spine.

"_Eden Prime will bring us one step closer to finding the conduit." _

She paused playback.

"Conduit?" Udina asked.

"There's more," Shepard said, feeling tired again. He'd heard the recording before he arrived. Couldn't unhear it.

Tali nodded and let the clip play once more. This time they heard a female voice, sonorous and smooth.

"_And one step forward to the return of the reapers." _

Tali stopped playback once more, allowing her omnitool to fade away. Shepard put a hand to the bridge of his nose. His head felt tight.

"The core data identifies her as an asari matriarch named Benezia," she said before they could ask.

"I've heard of her," Udina said sourly.

Anderson put a thoughtful hand to his chin. "What are these reapers she mentions?"

"They destroyed the protheans," Shepard said without looking up.

(_the monsters are awake)_

"That…is what the geth believe," Tali concurred.

Shepard waved his hand. "Doesn't matter what they believe. It's what happened."

_(they are coming)_

"Yes, your visions," Udina sneered. "Of course."

"What do you know about them?" Anderson asked.

Tali tilted her head to the side, seemingly pleased that he'd asked. "According to the data I recovered the geth believe them to be a hyper advanced machine race that existed 50,000 years ago. They hunted the protheans to total extinction, then vanished."

Shepard remembered the hollow eyes of his mother, the smile with no teeth. How she opened her arms in welcome to the pestilence that Tali was now trying to describe. He gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking.

Udina's brow furrowed. "And you can prove this?"

"Yes," Tali insisted. "If you agree to your part of the deal."

Shepard willfully forced the visions away, focusing on Anderson. When he spoke he was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. "If we're going after Saren, that's going to mean geth. Who knows geth better than a quarian?"

Anderson scowled. Shepard was sure this was a conversation he'd rather have in private, but they didn't have the luxury. The Council was meeting in less than an hour.

"I'll make the arrangements," he said with an eventual sigh. "Admiral Hackett might help me smooth things over. If Mikhailovich gets wind of this I'll lose my damned commission."

"All I care about is whether or not she can make this hold up in front of the Council," Udina said.

"I've documented everything," Tali assured them. "They can review it however they want. I stand by my work."

"Let's hope it's enough."

* * *

The four of them made the long walk through the anterooms of the Citadel Tower, past arboretums of blossoming trees (they were not green, which Shepard found odd, having instead a rose colored hue). The gentle splash of fountains echoed along the periphery, mingled with the whispers of other diplomats who watched their every move. A short distance behind them came Alenko and Williams, both shifting their gazes about them like they had no idea if they were actually supposed to be there.

They climbed two short flights of steps to reach the petitioner's stage, where the walkway narrowed to only a couple of meters wide as it jutted out over a glass floor, beneath which grew an immaculately tended garden. At the far end of the glass was a platform with three podiums where the Councilors now stood: one asari, one turian and one salarian. Circling the sides of the chamber were several viewing galleries where people could watch the proceedings, and today they were crowded.

The asari Councilor, Tevos, was dressed in a simple, close fitting rouge gown with a ribbon of white down the center of her chest and white sleeves. Soft pink tattoos like tiger stripes stood out against her blue skin, forming a mask around her eyes and trailing up into the ridges of her sweeping skull crest. The turian had white clan markings, though not as thick as the Executor's, and wore a boldly colored suit with white piping.

Both looked hale, even young, though Shepard was quick to remind himself that neither turians nor asari showed age like other species did. In fact according to Avina, the asari-shaped VI projection found all over the Citadel, Tevos was over 800 years old. The salarian on the other hand did look aged, with deep rivulets running through the architecture of his amphibious face, especially around his large, black eyes, even though he was just shy of forty. The thick hooded cloak he wore nearly obscured the natural scholiotic curve of his spine, but only seemed to add to his age and had the side effect of making him look…frumpy.

There was palpable unease as Shepard stepped onto the dais. Among those gathered along the railings Shepard spotted Garrus, identifying him by the now-familiar rectangular blue glow of the targeting visor he wore over his left eye. He was not, Shepard noted, wearing his C-Sec uniform. Not far from him he was surprised to see Wrex, though how he had gained access to the Tower was beyond him. Krogan were only marginally welcome on the Citadel to begin with. They were tolerated in the Wards, shunned in the Presidium. Wrex's presence here indicated he either had more influence than Shepard realized, or someone had intervened to obtain clearance. _Anderson_, Shepard thought. _But why?_

Shepard found it hard to concentrate on the Council as Udina and Anderson argued their case. Their suspicion, their refusal to come to terms with Saren's betrayal, only stirred up his anger to the point he wanted to reach across the chasm and strangle them. _You haven't seen what I saw! You don't know what I know! _

Reapers.

The moment Tali had named them it was like flipping a switch that sent him on an express shuttle to hell.

(_they descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns)_

The agony, terror, hopelessness and grief of an entire race hurtling towards extinction burned up his brain.

The horrors beings could inflict on one another were not new to him. He had seen it on Mindoir, Elysium. On Torfan he had even been one of the inflictors, allowed all the hatred, all the fury that had been building inside of him ever since the batarians had set his home – his life – on fire so many years ago, to rise up and dominate his every thought, every sense

(_you batarian _bastards_, not one. Not one more)_

until all humanity was neatly excised from the equation. It was Torfan where he had understood what had gone through the mind of the four eyed arthropod who had gutted his mother with a ballistic blade gauntlet, leaving her to bleed while varren tore through the entrails of his father amidst the spreading flames. That sadistic euphoria that Shepard had felt within himself – no matter how brief – had driven him to the bottom of a bottle until Anderson had found him, kicked him around and dragged him forcibly back to sobriety.

The discovery that such brutality lurked somewhere in everyone was hard to live with, but in the end, if you tried hard enough, looked deep enough, that humanity came back to you.

Not so with the reapers. There was no mercy. Neither was there anger. Just the patient, methodical, relentless annihilation of an entire race by something so inherently inhuman, unknowable, it made Shepard's blood run cold.

(_they are coming, they are coming theyarecomingTHEYARECOMING)_

The protheans had not understood their enemy. He knew that much. They had thought themselves strong, but this foe had been stronger, utterly alien and without compassion.

Shepard forced his gaze back to the Council as they listened to the recordings Tali had recovered, reviewed the geth data that described Saren's plan of attack on Eden Prime and his intention to turn more than four million people into a smoking crater just to cover his tracks. He reached out for the railing at the end of dais and clenched it until his knuckles turned white.

Udina smiled grimly, throwing an arm out in a grand, condescending gesture. "You wanted proof, there it is."

The turian councilor, Sparatus, sighed. "We will further review the evidence gathered by Ms. Zorah. However it appears to be genuine. That being the case, Saren Arterius will be stripped of Spectre status and all efforts made to bring him to answer for his crimes."

A ripple ran through the onlookers.

Councilor Tevos's normally detached expression was deep with worry. "If that is indeed Matriarch Benezia, then he has found himself a formidable ally. She's a powerful biotic with many followers."

Valern, the salarian, peered out from under his hood at a datascreen hovering above his podium. "What is this 'conduit' he speaks of?"

"We're not sure," Anderson admitted. "But we think it's the key to bringing back the reapers."

Sparatus scoffed. "Ridiculous. You think Saren wants to bring back a mythical machine race that wiped out all life in the galaxy? Impossible. It has to be!"

"His motives don't matter," Shepard spoke up. "All that matters is he doesn't find whatever he's looking for."

"Notice is being sent out as we speak that Saren is a rogue agent," Sparatus said with infuriating patience. "Without the rights or resources of a Spectre he'll be on the run for his life. Whatever his intentions were, he won't be able to continue."

"He has a geth army at his back and a powerful asari ally," Anderson argued. "He doesn't need your authority. He'll make his own. We have to do more than just passively sit by and wait for him to appear. I know the man. He won't let this – or anything else – get in his way that easily."

Shepard shifted his gaze to his Captain, eyebrow raised. So Anderson did know Saren. The question was how. It wasn't in his record – Shepard had looked.

Udina leaned forward against the railing, clenching an outstretched fist. "He's hiding somewhere in the Traverse. Send your fleet in!"

"A fleet to track down one man?" Valern said, bemused.

"Maybe not," Udina said grudgingly. "But it might protect more colonies from the threat of the geth."

Sparatus shook his head. "We will not be dragged into a galactic confrontation over a few human colonies."

Udina shuffled his feet, too agitated to stand still, his voice frothing with anger. "Human for now!" he shouted, gesticulating with both arms. "But what happens when he attacks a turian colony? Asari? What then!"

"Send me," Shepard said calmly.

There was another rush of whispers from the gallery, followed by a hush. All three Councilors exchanged glances. Anderson did not meet Shepard's gaze, simply knotted his hands behind his back and looked straight ahead. Udina coiled his fists in anticipation.

"Everyone wins," Shepard went on, brushing past Anderson until he was front and center on the platform. He scanned the crowd that had gathered, feeling every eye resting squarely on him. "You don't have to send a fleet into the Traverse. The Ambassador gets his Spectre."

"No," Sparatus said vehemently. "It's too soon. Humanity is not ready—"

Tevos reached over and touched him lightly on the arm. He turned a weary, frustrated face to her. She offered him a slight nod. After an extended pause he sighed, and nodded in return. All three of them offered their handprint to a screen that popped up on their terminals.

Everyone in the Tower pressed against the gallery railings. Shepard was aware of a short, dark haired human reporter standing eagerly nearby, in the right place at the right time, getting the story of her life. Behind him he could hear Alenko and Williams whispering frantically to each other.

The rest was a blur. All three Councilors droned at him about the power and privilege of being a Spectre and the burden that came with it. Shepard heard the words but barely registered them. Instead he found himself thinking about an old memory, his last before the raid on Mindoir, standing in the kitchen helping his mother peel and slice potatoes. Their first successful potato crop, after three years of trying to acclimate them to Mindoir's alien soil. For the first time in months she'd been happy, the strained slump of her shoulders were gone, the lines on her brow had smoothed and she was humming – something Shepard had missed. There was a yellow kerchief covering her auburn hair, though a few loose strands caught the slanting glow of the setting sun. They were waiting for his father to come in from surveying the fields, to share in the literal fruits of their hard labor. They had no idea that when he walked through the door their lives would come crashing down, propelling Shepard alone down an utterly alien path.

So long ago. Eons from here, this place, this moment.

That farmboy on Mindoir now stood in front of some of the most influential beings in the galaxy, representing humanity in a way that less than a lifetime ago couldn't even be fathomed.

_Do not let them down. _


	10. Chapter 10: Saliet Fidei

**Chapter 10 – Saliet Fidei**

Kaidan rested his arms on the railing, gazing out at the Ward arms from the viewing panes outside Dr. Michel's clinic. The sounds of living – conversation, laughter, arguments – broke over him in waves, the individual pitches and tones blending into a sea of muted, ambient noise.

In here, behind the glass, it was loud and cacophonous. Outside the viewing pane the passing ships and constant flutter of light and movement signaled something just as vivid, just as alive. But out there he knew it was silent, the emptiness of space swallowing up the sonance.

It had been a really weird day.

Idly he propped one foot against the railing, wondering where they would go from here. Anderson and Udina were closeted in the Presidium, determining the logistics of handling a human Spectre. Shepard had been whisked off shortly after the ceremony in the Tower, and without orders to return to the ship the rest of them had been left to look after themselves until the dust settled. He'd asked Joker if he wanted to get a drink somewhere, but the cranky pilot had turned him down. _I'm sure the Citadel's great, but if I try wandering around the only place I'm going to get to know is a med clinic, and it sounds like you guys shot that up already. Thanks but no thanks._

It was the first real insight Kaidan had had into the seriousness of Joker's condition. Of course he could have used a mobility assistance mech to get around, but Joker didn't seem to like them. Kaidan wasn't actually sure if he liked anything.

Williams had disappeared shortly after the ceremony also, leaving Kaidan to wander around on his own. Before long he'd found himself here, just one more in a long, long line of people who'd looked out this window and had a few morose thoughts about their infinitesimal place in the eyes of the galaxy. There was nothing like facing the threat of galactic extinction to make you feel small.

Had it not been for Shepard, Kaidan wasn't even sure he would believe it. But his expression when he had first heard Tali's recording, the speed at which the color drained from his face, had been so terrifying Kaidan believed every word of it. It had been like watching the literal weight of the galaxy come crashing down on his Commander's shoulders. Whatever that beacon had done to him on Eden Prime, it had affected him on a fundamental level that Kaidan previously thought him to be immune.

In some ways it made him seem more human, less like the freak soldier you heard about in the vids. The Butcher of Torfan, the Hero of Elysium…the unconquerable Commander Shepard. Even after the few months they'd served together Kaidan sometimes had a hard time seeing past the legend, so seeing such a visceral reaction to Tali's evidence made these reapers that much more terrifying.

_First thing's first_, Kaidan reminded himself. First they had to contend with Saren. If they stopped him, maybe the reapers would stay vanished. He could hope, anyway.

Someone came up beside him and leaned against the railing. A glance told him it was Ashley Williams, a small – but not unwelcome – surprise. She was back in the Alliance regs she'd picked up on the Presidium, right down to the designer boots that were all she'd been able to find. Flashy green with white stripes, no less. He resisted a smile at how woefully she'd underestimated her ability to bargain with a volus. When you combined that with how gaudy they were, he thought she might have been better off sticking with the pair that went with her armor.

"Enjoying the view, LT?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Hard not to be impressed. Where've you been?"

"Got ahold of my mom and sisters," Ashley replied, grabbing the railing and stretching backwards until Kaidan heard something in her shoulder pop. "They heard that something happened on Eden Prime. Wanted to let them know I was ok."

"Where are they? Earth?"

She nodded. "I was born on Sirona, but we all wound up back on Earth when I did Basic at Macapá."

"Close family, huh? Bet they were worried."

"Yeah. We come from a long line of military, so they know it's part of the job. Doesn't make it easy though." She nodded towards the med clinic, suddenly eager to change the subject. "What brings you back to the scene of the crime?"

He released the railing and straightened up a little. "Came to check on Dr. Michel. I imagine having to oversee the removal of four bodies from your clinic would rattle you a little."

"Right," she demurred. "And I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact she's a smoking hot redhead. With a Russian accent."

"Of course not," Kaidan said, feeling his face flush.

Ashley shook her head, smiling. "You're such a boy scout."

"At least I didn't sell my soul to a volus for those godawful boots."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Touché. Maybe now that Shepard's a Spectre I can pass the bill to him. Assuming we ever see him again."

Kaidan tilted his head, considering. Out the window he could see a salarian frigate drifting along the ward arms, heading for the docking rings. "You know, I hadn't really thought about that."

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. "I have. But then again, you have an official posting on the _Normandy._ I'm just space luggage you picked up along the way."

"Wow, someone's down on themselves."

"Comes with the territory."

Kaidan frowned. "What does that mean?"

She waved him off. "Nothing. Sorry. If you hadn't noticed, I have a tendency to shove my foot in my mouth a lot."

He had noticed.

"Do you believe all this about reapers?" she asked. "That Saren's gone batshit enough to buddy up with machines that want to wipe us out Old Testament style?"

"Yes," he said, looking back out into the blue wisps of the nebula.

"Because of the evidence or because of Shepard?"

Kaidan shifted his feet uncomfortably. She was more perceptive than he gave her credit for.

"He's not like other soldiers, is he?"

"Not that I've met," Kaidan admitted.

"How well do you know him?" she prodded. "There's a lot of rumors out there. People talk about him like he's Jekyll and Hyde. No one knows if he's going to climb the tree to rescue a kitten or just set the tree on fire and hope Kitty learns how to jump."

Now it was Kaidan's turn to laugh. "Pretty sure he's not the kitten murdering type, but I guess you never know. I only served with him a few months before we were posted to the _Normandy._"

"Yeah? So what _really_ happened on Torfan?"

Kaidan sighed and reached for the railing, cursing silently when an electric shock nipped the pads of his fingers. It always got him more after a biotic display. "You know, I didn't exactly grill him about that. Seems like asking for the grisly details about a massacre that killed half your men isn't exactly polite conversation over a game of cards."

"So you're telling me you _don't_ have foot and mouth syndrome," she said seriously.

"Come on," he said with a grin. "I need to get something to eat. Want to check out Flux, that nightclub place?" Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. In biotic terms, that was way too long.

"Sure," she said amiably.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice interrupted. They turned in surprise to find Shepard behind them, arms folded across his chest with an easy smile on his face. Ashley immediately turned about six shades of red. Kaidan had no idea how long he'd been standing there, but clearly Ashley believed it was long enough. Foot and mouth indeed.

"Of course not, Shepard," Kaidan said, rescuing Ashley from having to speak.

They strolled down the corridor towards the stairwell to entrance of Flux, accosted on the way by the short haired reporter who'd been in the Tower for the Spectre induction ceremony. She was young and bursting with enthusiasm, giddily shaking his hand when he offered it and introducing herself as Emily Wong. To Kaidan's surprise she wasn't even there to ask him about being a Spectre – instead she was interested in Fist, the man Wrex had shot.

If Shepard was annoyed he didn't show it, taking the time to answer a few questions and offer up the information Garrus had come up with from Fist's office, at which point Kaidan thought her eyes might fall out of her head. When he finally extricated himself from her fervent thank you's and reached the nightclub's entrance, Ashley chuckled. "Think you made a friend for life, Commander."

Shepard shrugged. "Not like I was going to do anything with the data."

Inside Flux the lighting was dim but amiable. To the left of the entrance was a dance floor where a collection of humans, turians, several asari and even a volus were swaying and waving their arms, or in the case of the volus, tottering on stumpy legs and using his short arms to keep his rotund body from toppling over.

On a mezzanine above the dance floor was a gambling floor with a large collection of quasar tables that beeped and flashed enthusiastically, all closely watched by a determined volus. To the left was a bar and collection of tables – none occupied by asari dancers, to Ashley's satisfaction.

A human bouncer took one look at Shepard, widened his eyes and let them pass. For a second Kaidan thought he was going to bow. _News travels fast,_ he thought_. _

"Gonna cut a rug on the dance floor, Commander?" Ashley asked.

Kaidan suppressed a snort. Shepard grimaced. "Dancing isn't really my thing."

She shrugged. They headed to a table and sat. A dark-haired waitress swiftly took a drink order – a lager for Ashley and straight whisky for Shepard. Kaidan ordered two glasses of water and a steak dinner, earning him an odd look from Ashley.

"I'm a biotic," he said defensively. "Gotta eat. And no one ever refills glasses fast enough."

She gave him an expression that said _Sure, whatever_.

Like Chora's Den the music here was loud, but it lacked that aura of desperation. Here it felt like people were actually enjoying themselves rather than trying to drown their problems. For a moment the three of them sat in companionable silence. Shepard leaned back in his chair, casually observing their surroundings. Kaidan noticed there were plenty of people trying not to stare.

"Any word from above?" he asked.

Shepard shook his head. "Anderson and Udina said they'd call for me when they had everything taken care of. Not sure how I feel about not having a say in things, but Anderson was pretty clear that Spectre or no I was still Alliance and should kindly shut up and get the hell out."

"Which I'm sure you did promptly, without complaint, and have stayed completely out of trouble," Kaidan replied.

Shepard accepted the offered whisky from the waitress and took a long sip. "I may have made a few arrangements of my own."

Ashley swished the beer in her glass. "Such as?"

"Convinced Garrus and Wrex to come along for the ride."

She nearly spilled the glass. "You did _what? _Why?"

"I need them," Shepard replied. "Wrex has ties to the Shadow Broker, which might come in handy. And besides, rumor has it Saren is working with a few krogan in addition to the geth. Figured it couldn't hurt to have one on our side."

"Christ on crutches," Ashley muttered.

The waitress brought Kaidan's steak. He was sure it was some lab-grown piece of meat that had little to do with an actual cow, but he didn't care. He dug in while the other two watched.

"And what about your turian puppy dog?" Ashley asked, twisting her napkin in her fingers.

"Garrus," Shepard corrected her forcefully. "He's eager and hates Saren, not to mention he's a terrific shot. Sounds like the combination we're looking for. Besides, I'm not convinced he didn't already have his bags waiting by the door. Don't think he liked his job."

"What's your deal with aliens?" Kaidan asked Ashley around a mouthful of baked potato.

Ashley shrugged. "I don't hate them or anything," she said. "I just don't trust them. I mean, Shanxi wasn't _that_ long ago. It seems like everyone is a little too eager to jump on the Council bandwagon and do whatever we have to to fit in, even if it means compromising ourselves in the process."

"It's a big galaxy out there," Shepard pointed out. "Seems like we'd do well to make friends rather than enemies."

"Sure, fine, I get it. But can we at least make sure they're willing to reciprocate a little first? The Council doesn't seem too interested in helping our colonies."

"That's politics," Shepard replied.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Generalizations are dangerous," Kaidan told her. "Aliens are jerks and saints, just like us." It had taken him a long time to come to that conclusion, but it had proved a valuable one.

"How profound," she drawled.

Shepard frowned. "Will this be a problem?"

"No," she said, straightening up in her chair.

"Good. Because whatever their plan is," he nodded symbolically up at the ceiling, "I intend to pick my own crew."

Her eyes widened hopefully. Kaidan found himself leaning forward slightly in his seat. "I want to be part of this if you'll have me," she said. "I know I can be a pain in the ass. But I swear, Commander. You say jump my only question'll be how high."

"What's our first move?" Kaidan asked, laying his silverware down. "How do we find Saren?"

Shepard signaled the waitress for another round. "The Council provided a few leads. Best one seems to be in Artemis Tau. Apparently this Matriarch Benezia has a daughter who's a prothean scientist. Her last reported location was somewhere in Knossos studying ruins."

"Think she's working for her mom?" Ashley asked.

"Won't know until we get there."

Shepard's comm beeped. He pulled up his omnitool, quickly scanning a new message. "Anderson wants us back on the _Normandy,_" he said. "Looks like we're about to find out what happens next."

All three of them stood. Kaidan looked longingly at the last few mouthfuls on his plate, then sighed and picked up the tab, earning him a grateful nod from Ashley. She really had run through most of her available credits to get those stupid boots. At least meals in the Wards were a sight cheaper than they were on the Presidium. Relatively, anyway. Kaidan noted Shepard hadn't been charged for his drinks.

As they wound through the corridors of the Wards back to C-Sec and the docking elevators, Kaidan couldn't help but feel something had fundamentally changed the course of events. Whatever trajectory his life had been on yesterday had been irrevocably altered. What that meant he didn't know, but he couldn't help but feel that with Shepard at the helm their chances were infinitely better.

* * *

Shepard stared at Ambassador Udina amidst the echoes of the docking bay outside the _Normandy,_ wondering if he'd heard correctly. Alenko and Williams had already boarded, leaving Shepard alone with Udina and Anderson.

"She's the perfect ship for a Spectre," Anderson told him. "Quick, quiet, crewed with people you can trust."

"Yes, but she's _your_ ship," Shepard replied. "An Alliance ship."

"With a heavy investment by the Council," Udina reminded him.

The corner of Anderson's mouth quirked in a small, passing grimace.

A dull roar drowned out all sound as another Alliance ship shut down its maneuvering thrusters on its way into the adjoining docking bay. The creaking of hydraulic joints accompanied the extending docking clamps that locked it in place.

"I've been asked to serve as the Alliance attaché to the Citadel," Anderson explained. "And it's time for me to step down. Thirty years in action is enough."

It all fell into place.

"This was the plan from the start," Shepard realized. "The _Normandy_. You wanted a human Spectre. You planned to give her to whoever managed to pull it off. Captain Anderson was just keeping the seat warm. You politically motivated _bastards_."

"Becoming a Spectre does not entitle you to disrespect me," Udina informed him coldly. Shepard thought that was exactly what it meant, but kept his mouth shut.

"This is the highest honor the Council has ever bestowed on humanity. If we want to continue to move forward and earn our place, we have to make the most of it. That means fitting a Spectre with the best ship, best crew and best resources."

"And kicking one of your most decorated officers to the curb," Shepard said in distaste.

Udina pursed his lips. "You should be thrilled, Shepard. You are the only one who can bring justice to those who murdered our people and destroyed our colony. You can prove humanity's worth. Through you, the Alliance can accomplish things it could never do on its own. I think that's worth a few personnel changes."

Shepard hated Udina all the more because he was right.

"The _Normandy_ is being loaded with weapons and supplies that you might find useful," Udina went on. "As soon as that's done, you are cleared to proceed immediately. Good luck."

Udina left quickly, as anxious to leave as Shepard was to see him go.

"This isn't right," he said as soon as Udina disappeared into the docking bay elevator. "I don't care what he says. You've done too much for the Alliance to be forced out like this."

A wry smile touched the corner of Anderson's lips. "I had my shot, Shepard. I was in your shoes twenty years ago."

This took Shepard by surprise, again making him realize how much better Anderson knew him than the other way around. "You were a Spectre candidate?"

"The first," Anderson said with a nod. "But I blew it."

"Saren evaluated you," Shepard said as it dawned on him. That was how they'd known each other. All of Anderson's agitation, anxiety and frustration suddenly made sense.

"Yes. And as you can imagine, it didn't go well. He set me up to fail. A man good enough to be a Spectre would have seen it, but I didn't." He held his hand up when Shepard tried to interrupt. "Doesn't matter. It's old history. Now it's your turn. I wasn't the right one for the job. You are."

The certainty of his affirmation took Shepard off guard. They had been walking on eggshells around each other for so long now he wasn't sure just how much faith Anderson still had in him.

Anderson cleared his throat, as though guessing what he was thinking. "Shepard, you're the best soldier I've had under my command, but that's not enough to be a Spectre. A Spectre has qualities that can't be taught. Qualities _you_ possess."

"And what are those?" Shepard asked, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he'd ever felt in his life.

Anderson placed a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Do you remember what I told you after Elysium?"

"This is different," Shepard argued.

"Is it? This isn't going to be easy, Shepard. I don't have to tell you that. Let me ask you something. Alenko and Williams. They would follow any order I gave them, wouldn't you agree?"

Shepard frowned. "Of course."

"But what would happen if you gave one that contradicted it?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Started again, more hesitantly than he wanted. "You're their superior officer."

Anderson chuckled. "I know what the answer is supposed to be, Shepard. I'm asking you what it _is_."

It was not a question he had ever thought to even ask himself. But he remembered that moment in Flux, when Ashley's eyes had lit up at the suggestion he would commandeer her and Alenko. _You say jump, my only question'll be how high. _And then there was Eden Prime, when he'd found her fleeing the enemy, trying to survive. At his command she had turned around and walked right back into the fire. As for Alenko, he stuck to the Alliance rulebook more than most, but deep down Shepard thought that if he demanded otherwise, Kaidan would comply.

"I think you know the answer to my question," Anderson said. "And to answer yours, that's why."

"Sir…"

Anderson smiled. "It's all right, son. Why do you think I've been on your ass pushing you all these years? Do you know how many commanders Admiral Hackett asks for regular reports on?"

"_Hackett_ keeps tabs on me?"

"Yes."

"Ok. I'll bite. How many others?"

"None. Just you. You think I was the only one who recommended you to the Council?"

Shepard was silent. The commander of the Fifth Fleet kept tabs on him. Why the hell was he the last to know about everything?

"So. Are you ready to notify the crew?"

"That should go over well," Shepard muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It looks like I'm stealing your job."

"I don't think it'll be as bad as you think."

Nearly the entire crew of the Normandy was waiting for them in the CIC. Alenko, Williams, Pressly, Dr. Chakwas, Adams among several others, and at the head of them all stood Joker, arms crossed defiantly across his chest as Anderson explained to them the change in command. There was no need to relay the news about Shepard's Spectre induction; it was all the news feeds had been broadcasting for the last several hours.

When Anderson was done, there was silence. Shepard shifted his feet.

"We're behind you," Joker said suddenly.

There was a chorus of nods and agreements.

"I mean," he said with a somewhat guilty look at Anderson, "What they did to you was bullshit. Sir."

"Thank you, Joker," Anderson said with a smile.

"But Commander, just give the order. We're all in. Whatever it takes."

_It means the best ship with the best crew_, Udina had said.

He had that part right.


	11. Chapter 11: Stricta Spatiis

**Chapter 11 – Stricta Spatiis**

Garrus paused on the ramp bisecting the _Normandy's _cargo bay, the bag containing his personal items slung over his shoulder, the one containing his weapons and armor lying at his feet. The cavernous room smelled of lubricant and coolant, slowly mixing with the unmistakable musky scent of krogan. On the left were crew lockers, one of which presumably belonged to him now, and a weapons' bench. On the right hulked the six-wheeled infantry tank Shepard had called a Mako. Near the head of the tank Garrus could hear the heavy stirrings of Wrex as he rudely arranged things to his liking. Neither Garrus nor Wrex fit in the human-designed sleeper pods, so Shepard was making arrangements to have the necessary equipment delivered for them to bunk in the cargo bay.

A turian. And a krogan. Sharing the same sleeping space on a human frigate.

What the hell was he _doing?_

He could just imagine the message he'd get from his father once he heard his firstborn child and only son had quit his job and thrown his lot in with a Spectre. A human Spectre. If the very news didn't give him a coronary.

Garrus had disappointed his father plenty of times over the years, but this one probably sat alone at the top of the heap.

_I just turned my back on my entire career to live with a krogan and chase a mad turian halfway around the galaxy._

When he thought about it in those terms it sounded a lot crazier than it had when Shepard had been standing at the door of his apartment, asking him to help bring the man who was now the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy to justice. Shepard had made it sound like an opportunity, _the_ opportunity to stand up for his people, be a hero. Shepard had made him _believe_, and what's more it hadn't been a tough sell.

Until, of course, he found himself standing in this poorly lit cargo bay with a krogan roommate and a rack of shotguns hanging on the far wall.

_Spirits. Dad always said you were a rash, leap first, look later kind of turian, and it seems he was right. _

There was a loud clatter of a stack of crates toppling to the floor, followed by a string of krogan curses that made Garrus wince. He wondered if Shepard had even heard of the genophage, or realized that of the entire crew he was the worst possible species to leave alone with the one ton reptile.

He heard the slow grind of gears signaling the arrival of the cargo elevator. When it finally came to a creaking halt the door opened to reveal Shepard himself. Garrus wasn't sure whether to be relieved or dismayed.

"Settling in?" Shepard asked, casually swinging his arms and making a beeline for Garrus.

"I…think so Commander," Garrus replied, a hesitant chord resonating in his subvocals. "Turian military upringing means we don't really need much to be comfortable."

"But?" Shepard prompted.

Garrus flicked a mandible, surprised Shepard had caught on to his hesitation. His eyes slid briefly to the hulking shape over by the Mako, but not quick enough to go unnoticed.

The expression on Shepard's face shifted quickly from relaxed to something different. Concern, maybe. The incredible depth of human expression was fascinating to Garrus. Turians depended so heavily on vocal subharmonics and subtle body language for their social cues, but not humans. Everything you needed to know about their mood, physical well-being and _guilt_ was all right there in the fleshy canvas of their face for anyone to see, provided you understood what it meant. Garrus wasn't sure whether to pity or envy them.

"Something wrong?" Shepard asked.

"Commander," Garrus said slowly, grateful that the inflections in his subharmonics would be totally lost on the human. He had found that you could train yourself to see visual tics, even if they were created by an alien anatomy. But vocal 'tells' were nearly impossible to learn if your ears weren't designed to pick them up. Salarians were about the only species who had accomplished it to any degree, but they were, well. Salarians. "How much do you know about krogan, turian relations?"

Shepard folded his arms loosely over his chest. "You mean the genophage."

"Well, yes."

"I know the basics. Will it be a problem?"

"Not from me, no," Garrus said quickly. "That was hundreds of years before I was born. But Wrex on the other hand…well, it's not quite such ancient history to him."

Shepard nodded, never moving his gaze. Garrus shifted his feet.

"Wrex won't be a problem," Shepard said at last, then glanced at the bag on the floor. "Sniper?" he asked, effectively ending the discussione elongated shapeced at the bag resting by Garrus'accomplished it to any degree, but they were, well. Salarians. .

Garrus crouched down next to the bag and pulled out the case with his rifle. "Halitat Armory," he said. "Nothing flashy, but I've added a few mods that make it hit pretty hard."

Shepard tapped the corner of his eye. "Like the visor?"

"Yes," Garrus said, pleased Shepard had noticed. "Turian design based on the Kuwashii model. I commissioned it special." He reached up and ran a talon lovingly along the frame. "Sonar, LADAR, thermal and EM targeting. Biofeedback monitors, kinetic barrier targeting solutions and that's just the basics."

He held up his rifle, brushed against the catch that extended the barrel to its full length with a soft hiss and looked down the sight. The visor overlay was his most comfortable way of looking at the world. Combine it with a scope and that world became his own personal playground.

"Impressive," Shepard said. "Williams was asking me about it."

That surprised him a little. He got the distinct impression Williams didn't like him. At first he'd thought it was his winning personality, but after seeing the encounter with Tali he thought it was more likely she didn't like much of anyone.

"Tell me something, Garrus," Shepard said, almost thoughtfully. Garrus retracted the barrel, slid the gun back into its case with a click and tilted his head toward Shepard.

"Why leave C-Sec? Why come with me? Human ship, human crew. Can't be all that comfortable for you."

Garrus' mandible flickered. That question wound its way through some personal territory that he wasn't too sure about himself. He thumbed the latch of his rifle case, then put it back in the bag and zipped it closed, half hoping that Shepard would change the subject. But instead he leaned against one of the ramp supports and waited, as though he had all the time in the world.

"I came to C-Sec thinking I could make a difference," Garrus said at last. "My father was a C-Sec man to the core, so I grew up hearing about bringing criminals to justice, doing things the C-Sec way. But it turns out doing things the C-Sec way has a lot more to do with compromise than it does justice."

Shepard gestured with one hand. "And you think being here means shackles off."

_Careful_, Garrus thought. _You're being tested. _"I think it means you'll do whatever it takes to get the job done. If I may be so bold, sir, your history with the Alliance indicates that you know when to do things the way everyone likes to hear about, and when to do things the way people prefer not to."

There was a flicker across Shepard's face, but damn it, too subtle for Garrus to interpret. "I see you did your homework on me."

That one threw him. "Er, homework?"

A small smile passed Shepard's lips. "Sorry. Research. You researched me."

Garrus shifted almost uncomfortably. "A good cop is always prepared. The raid on Torfan…well, it looked like nasty business."

Shepard rubbed idly at a smudge on the support he was leaning against. "Didn't realize there was that much detail in the public record," he said. His tone was maddeningly neutral. Garrus' plates tightened. He had no idea how loose the sand was under his feet, but had to figure it was pretty loose.

"I'm turian, Commander. I did my time in the military. I read between the lines."

Shepard nodded absently, then to Garrus' absolute shock he clapped him on the shoulder, an invasion of space most turians considered taboo, but Shepard somehow made feel normal.

"Welcome to the _Normandy_, Garrus. Glad to have you along."

* * *

Tucked inside the engine room a short distance from Garrus, Tali stood with her hands poised above a terminal, gazing into the churning blue sphere of the ship's drive core. The drive output the _Normandy _was capable of seemed to outright flirt with the laws of physics. Growing up in the Migrant Fleet she had been around almost any kind of ship imaginable, knew every bolt and bulkhead of more than a few ships in the Flotilla, but next to the _Normandy _even the _Rayya _seemed like a common freighter. She kept checking her biofeeds to convince herself she wasn't dreaming.

And if that wasn't enough, Engineer Adams seemed _thrilled_ to have her. He'd spent the last several hours going over different systems, ecstatic whenever she asked a question. It was a little terrifying at first, to be honest. Everywhere she had been since leaving the Flotilla she had been acutely reminded of the galaxy's indifference to the quarian race. Those who didn't actively scorn her looked right through her as though she were made of glass. Had it not been for Keenah she thought she might have given up and gone home, to hell with the stigma and shame that would result from returning from her Pilgrimage empty handed. When he had died her first thought hadn't been to mourn, but to curse him for leaving her alone, something she hadn't stopped feeling guilty for yet, and maybe never would.

That her fortunes could make this big of a reversal was something straight out of _Fleet and Flotilla._ And yet…the longer she stood here, in the belly of this perfect ship, the more homesick she got. The more she poked into the IES prototype and the revolutionary propulsion systems the more she missed the _Rayya's_ aging engines and quirky FTL drive. More often than not quarian ships were held together with little more than a hot patch and a few prayers. Secretly everyone always walked around with tension in their shoulders, hidden by their suits but always there just the same as they listened for the sound of a problem fuel cell or a heat sink failure. There was none of that here on the _Normandy, _and none of the stress that came with being responsible for the lives of millions. And somehow she missed it.

She missed listening to Raan's stories about the Admiralty Board – the things her father would never tell her. She missed sneaking food from the Commons with Cora and Neeta, putting Jaxa in his place with her superior hack algorithms. As much as she had hated being in close quarters, constantly having to sacrifice for the good of her shipmates, always putting the good of the Flotilla before herself…now that it was gone she desperately wanted it all back.

It didn't matter how nice Adams or Caroline Grenado were. None of these humans had any idea what it was like to live your life enclosed in a suit, and that simple fact made finding the closeness Tali had been surrounded with her whole life impossible to find.

She'd thought about contacting her father as soon as she got on board, but quickly rejected the idea. It was always her first instinct to go to him when she had a problem, and every time she did she always felt like she'd disappointed him in some way. _You are the daughter of an Admiral. You should be able to handle this yourself._

_I'm trying,_ she thought desperately.

But even in the company of the engineers Tali was lonely. And really, _really_ hungry.

That was another thing she hadn't considered when she brokered her deal with Shepard. She was a dextro. It wasn't something she'd ever really thought much about until she'd found herself on a ship of levos, surrounded by food she couldn't eat. Shepard, who hadn't thought about it either, was quickly trying to make arrangements to stock the mess hall accordingly, and not just with the bland paste she'd been stuck with lately. Shepard was after real food, ingredients and recipes they could put to use. But in the meantime she was just hungry.

"Coffee?" Adams asked pleasantly. Grenado had just shown up with a tray of mugs from the mess. Tali liked Grenado; she was younger than most of the other humans on the ship, which made Tali feel less self-conscious about her own age. Her brown eyes were full of humor, she laughed a lot, and like Adams she didn't give Tali's presence a second thought. But really, Tali admitted, it was her hair. It was honey brown, shorn just above her shoulders, and the way it swished and swung when she moved was absolutely fascinating to her. Humans were the only other species Tali had met that grew hair, and being among them made her wonder what living unhooded would be like, to remove the growth suppressors and see if her hair would be short and springy like Grenado's or long and thick like Williams'.

Grenado offered the tray, steam curling up from the rim of each mug, carrying a rich, penetrating aroma that made her mouth water.

Tali ducked her head. "I can't drink it," she said, embarrassed.

Adams' face flushed. "So sorry," he said. "I'm such an idiot. I keep forgetting. Really, I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's no problem," she said, concealing a small sigh. Grenado bit her lip as Adams quickly snatched one mug, then retreated over to Mochizuki, the other engineer on duty.

Adams tried to change the subject. "Has the simulation we ran on the FTL drive modifications finished compiling?"

Tali swiped at her terminal, grateful for the distraction. "Yes. The electrical current overflow is at four percent. About what we expected."

"But we can do better?"

She thought for a moment, going over the options in her head. "I think I can design a shunt that refines the flow a little better. Want me to try?"

Adams beamed. "Of course!" He glanced conspiratorially over at Grenado and Mochizuki. "Those two have good heads on their shoulders, but this kind of thing is over their paygrade. Not that they aren't talented," he added quickly. "It's just I don't think I've ever been around someone who thinks about engines on the level you do."

Tali tilted her chin with pride, but it vanished quickly when her stomach rumbled. It was getting harder to distract herself, and to top it off she was tired. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since finding the geth, and her limbs felt like lead.

"I think I'm going to get some rest, if it's all right with you," she said. She was half afraid he'd say no. Everything had happened so fast she didn't actually know where she fit in with the _Normandy's _military hierarchy, who she answered to and what role, if any, she was expected to fulfill.

"Of course!" Adams said cheerfully. "I'm sure you're exhausted." He took another sip from his mug, the tantalizing smell almost too much to bear.

She bid a mumbled farewell and headed out one of the twin doors behind her that stood on either side of the elevator bulkhead. The cargo bay seemed overly dark after being enclosed with the shimmering drive core, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Which was why she smacked right into Garrus as they both tried to enter the elevator.

"Sorry!" she quipped, heart yammering in her throat when the turian's talons gripped her arm to keep his balance. Her heart monitor chirped in dismay. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see, I'm such a—"

"Oh, you're fine," Garrus insisted before she could finish. The moment he was firmly on his feet again he hastily let go. "I didn't see you either. For a second there I thought you were an angry krogan looking for revenge."

She stifled a laugh. Garrus straightened his posture a little, seemingly pleased. He was still wearing the visor he'd been wearing in the alley. She wondered if it was by choice or necessity.

He looked different than other turians she had seen, and it wasn't just the visor. It took her a moment to put her finger on what it was. His armor was standard turian fit with the wide bowl-shaped cowl at the top that accommodated the large carapace underneath. His skin was pallid gray, with a flat nose and clan markings across his face. Ah, she realized. That's what it was. The markings were dark blue, not white. Garrus' were also more subtle than some; instead of covering his entire face they crossed the bridge of his nose and traced the lower curve of his eyes, with a separate pattern on the rear of each mandible. The darker color had a completely different effect than the bold white markings she'd seen on the Citadel. They made him seem more _real_, somehow, less like a man wearing a mask, as hypocritical as it sounded. Not to mention the color matched his eyes. Or at least the one that wasn't under the eyepiece.

"You just missed our illustrious Commander," he told her. "Ever feel like you just failed a test you didn't even realize you were taking?"

"Yes," she said, too quickly. She looked down at her feet. "I mean, I think."

Shepard had paid her a visit a couple of hours ago, and she was pretty sure she knew exactly what Garrus was talking about. Shepard might be the first human – first non_quarian_ who didn't just see a suit when he looked at her. It had been incredibly disconcerting.

Garrus gave her a small nod, as though he understood without needing her to elaborate. Tali kneaded her hands together. Neither one of them had thought to push the button to take them to the crew deck, and now she was too self-conscious to mention it.

"Hey," he said suddenly, and she jumped. "Are you as famished as I am? I have to say, having another dextro aboard is a huge relief."

"I'm starving," she admitted.

"Well, lucky for us I was able to use a few of my C-Sec connections to get us some rations that will tide us over until Shepard gets us fully stocked."

Her eyes widened, hopeful. "Really?"

He nodded, somberly. "I'm not going to let a young lady _starve_, am I? What kind of a C-Sec officer would I be?"

_One completely unlike the other turian I dealt with on the Citadel_, she thought, remembering Chellik's cold dismissal. Aloud, she said: "I thought you were _former_ C-Sec?"

"Oh, I am. Believe me I am. I can't tell you how good it feels to get out of there."

Tali reached out quickly to hit the elevator button, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"You have no idea what it's like," he went on, "training to bring justice to the wronged and put bad guys in jail only to find out the whole process is nothing but a political ploy so full of loopholes the bad guy not only walks free, but gets an apology for being bothered in the first place."

She happily listened to his rant, which grew more heated with each word.

Garrus sighed. "Out here, serving with a Spectre? We've got no rules. They give us a problem and say get it done. No questions asked. Amazing. My father is going to kill me. Spirits, could this thing go _any_ slower?"

She laughed a little. "I take it your father is not a fan of Spectres?"

"To put it mildly. He was a C-Sec man to the core. Guess I don't quite measure up there." Garrus paused, and a sense of shame entered his voice. "So I really hope I measure up here. Because otherwise I'll have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

At last the lift stepped and the door slid open. He gestured grandly for her to go ahead of him and followed her to the mess, chatting nonstop, oblivious to the odd looks they were getting from the rest of the crew. It was hours before she thought about being lonely.

* * *

Shepard poured Pressly a drink from the bottle he'd snagged from the mess. The two were seated in Andersons – his – quarters to try and figure out how to run an Alliance ship that was now under the command of a Spectre. Figuring out how the chain of command was supposed to work was one of many complexities they needed to unravel. Shepard figured the booze was a good way to make things go a little smoother.

At least the first few crises had been solved. They had food the entire crew could eat. Everyone had somewhere to sleep. Of course, the latter solution hadn't made everyone happy.

"You seriously want a krogan to make himself at home in our armory?" Pressly asked, sipping cautiously from the glass Shepard had offered him, trying to figure out what it was. Some kind of asari brandy that had looked expensive.

"Where else do you want me to put him?" Shepard asked, sitting heavily in the chair by Anderson's – _his – _desk. "Think he'd be willing to share a bunk with Joker?"

Pressly grimaced. "Touché. But letting him sleep with all of our shotguns hardly seems like a good plan if you actually want us to live long enough to find Saren."

Shepard shrugged. "Find me an alternative."

Pressly didn't have one. Their first meeting was off to a great start.

Shepard's wandering gaze came to rest on the bed. The sheets probably needed to be changed, and Shepard realized he had no idea what kind of laundry facilities the _Normandy_ had. Or if they even had a spare set of sheets.

He let the thought go when he realized Pressly was studying him carefully, hesitant.

"What?" he asked, though he knew what was coming.

Pressly inhaled deeply. "Are you sure about bringing these aliens onboard, Commander?"

Pressly was old enough to have been around for the First Contact war. As far as he was concerned, being suspicious of an alien wasn't racist, it was downright _pragmatic._ Shepard couldn't help but admire him for it a little.

"We're hunting a turian," Shepard said. "Doesn't it make sense to have a turian on board? Especially one who wants to see Saren behind bars?"

"You're assuming the krogan won't kill Garrus before we find Saren. Besides, I'm not so sure Garrus wouldn't put a bullet through you or me if it meant getting to Saren," Pressly countered, and Shepard thought again of Dr. Michel. He liked to believe Garrus took the shot because he was just that confident, but he was forced to admit it was very possible collateral damage didn't mean a whole lot. Not that Shepard could judge – he'd made more than a few decisions that were high on collateral damage. The difference was doing it because it was right verses doing it because you could. Which side of the fence Garrus landed on was still to be determined.

"Garrus will be fine," Shepard said, downing his drink.

"And the krogan?"

Shepard shrugged. "Don't piss him off."

Pressly shot him a look.

"We need him," Shepard said. "We don't really know what we're up against yet. Having the brute force of a krogan on our side might be a big help."

Pressly tapped a datapad against his lap. "I still think it's a bad idea."

The myriad consequences that having Wrex on board could cause were enough to make Shepard break into a cold sweat. But he'd already made the call, and if he'd been given the chance to change his mind he didn't think he would. It was just a matter of convincing everyone else. "Why don't you go down there and introduce yourself? Have a conversation."

"A conversation. With a krogan."

"You might be surprised," Shepard said. "Turns out clan Urdnot was actually a very highly respected one, back when the clans really mattered."

"So why is he a mercenary?" Pressly asked. "That's not exactly noble for a Battlemaster."

"Genophage," Shepard said simply. "It's amazing what a slow burn towards extinction does to your give-a-shit meter."

"So if he doesn't give a shit, why are we trusting him?"

Shepard swirled his glass, then set it down on his desk, half finished. "Like I said. Go talk to him. And look at his C-Sec file. There's a reason he's a Battlemaster. He killed a thresher maw on _foot._ And that was a few hundred years ago. Imagine how much he's learned since then."

"You know, I'd rather not."

Shepard waited. "Aren't you going to ask me about the quarian?"

Pressly snorted. "I would, but I think Adams would space me. He's in love. Says he's never seen someone with her kind of enthusiasm about engines. She's a learning sponge. Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen."

Shepard chuckled, running a hand over the stubble of hair on his head. "You're going to be all right, old man. As stubborn as you are, I think I'm going to need a dose of your cynicism every now and then."

"Oh, there'll be no shortage of that, sir." Pressly eased back in his chair, cracking a smug smile. "I've set a course for Artemis Tau. With three relay jumps we should reach Therum in about eighteen hours."

Not for the first time, Shepard wondered what the daughter of an asari matriarch was doing in a volcanic hellhole like Therum. "Good. Hopefully that will be enough time to learn a little bit more about this Dr. T'Soni."

Pressly regarded him curiously. "What do you know?"

Shepard shrugged. "She's an asari who likes to dig up protheans. In weird places. According to the database, Therum isn't all that distinguishable from hell. It just also happens to also have some prothean ruins."

He leaned over his desk, fishing amidst a sea of datapads for the right one and handing it to Pressly, who scanned it quickly. Shepard looked hopelessly at the pile on his desk while he waited. The amount of paperwork he needed to go through for the Alliance about becoming a Spectre was almost enough for him to call the Council and tell them never mind.

"Intense heat, active volcanoes, toxic air…" Pressly looked up. "This place looks wonderful. Why the hell would protheans build there?"

Shepard shrugged. "Things change. Maybe fifty thousand years ago it was a trendy beach getaway."

"What kind of a team does T'Soni have?" Pressly asked. "Can we expect resistance?"

"I guess that depends on what side she's on. According to the records, she went down there by herself. But that doesn't mean she's alone now."

"Wow. Who volunteers to hang out in volcanos by herself? She's either got a krogan's quad or a serious death wish. Hell, I guess both are a possibility. Maybe you'll get a chance to see how valuable your krogan is."

"I'm pretty sure if you refer to him as mine, he'll break your spine."

Pressly smiled, but then his face grew solemn. "I trust your judgment, Shepard. Going after a Spectre is going to mean a lot of infiltration work, ground teams. That's where you're at your best. I'll run the _Normandy_ better than anyone in the fleet, but that's not going to be enough for what we're up against. You need to surround yourself with a strong team made of people you can trust. If that means krogans, quarians, turians…you won't be getting resistance from me. You're just going to have to indulge an old campaigner's grumbling once in a while. But this old campaigner is going to look after your ship and your crew, no matter who it is."

"You're a good man, Pressly," Shepard said, leaning forward and propping an elbow on his thigh. "I don't have the experience Captain Anderson had. But I'm glad I have your confidence."

Pressly shook his head. "Experience is relative, Commander, and you've had more than all of us. I've seen what it can do to an average soldier, but you're not an average soldier. We're all in good hands. God have mercy on Saren, because we won't."

Shepard picked up his glass and raised it towards his XO. "Amen to that." Pressly returned the gesture. Pressly killed the rest of the glass in one go. Anderson had done well in choosing him. _Because when he did it, he knew that Pressly would wind up XO._

The entire crew had been picked with Shepard in mind. _So if you screw up, it's all on you. _


	12. Chapter 12: Caerulus

**12. Caerulus**

Deep within the belly of an abandoned mineshaft on Therum, Liara T'Soni sat back on her knees and held a flat, rectangular artifact up to the light of one of the portable stands strung up around her workspace. It was small enough to fit in her palm, with no markings other than a shallow groove curving across its smooth, black face. If this piece was at all like some of the others she'd found, that groove was some kind of circuitry. But if it was similar in other respects, she wouldn't be able to access whatever those circuits might contain.

Finding working prothean technology was rare. Even rarer was actually extracting any data. The protheans seemed to have some way of storing and accessing information that was beyond any conventional means, remarkable when you considered how similar the current known spacefaring cultures actually were to one another. If she wanted to access a salarian data cache, she might run into a few snags with the interface and security protocols, but aside from cultural differences, their methods of using a computer were fundamentally the same. The protheans on the other hand…

This small piece of circuitry represented a kind of technology that the asari hadn't come close to unlocking. Liara was positive there was some physiological key to it that was beyond their ability to duplicate, meaning the protheans had found a way to combine organic components and technology that was beyond their wildest comprehensions.

She blew a puff of air out the corner of her mouth, turning the piece over in her hands a few times. _What are you?_ For all she knew everything of value in this derelict place could be right here in the palm of her hand.

She pushed herself to her feet. There was a portable power source somewhere in her things that might at least be able to tell her if the circuits were still good.

A draft blew gently through the cavern, sending a chill rippling up her spine. She still hadn't gotten the atmospheric regulators to work right. Inside the prothean tower itself the temperature was a little more tolerable, but she still wasn't entirely confident that it was stable. Therefore she had set up camp in the abandoned mine that surrounded it, trading the sterile, whitewashed walls of prothean architecture for red rock and the faint, musty smell of rusting equipment.

How could anyone have found this amazing structure, a massive prothean tower _completely _encased in rock, and only been interested in mining the resources surrounding it?

There was nothing else on Therum even approaching this level of significance. The prothean ruins scattered across the main landmasses were long bereft of anything that might be of value. But even if she'd been among the first to explore them, she doubted she would have found much to get excited about on the surface. It seemed that either time – or maybe something else – had seen to it that little remained to provide any clues about who the protheans were, how they lived, or why they had vanished.

So much knowledge. So much power. The protheans had explored and conquered the stars using technology the asari were only beginning to understand after thousands of years of dedicated research. What could have possibly beaten them, other than themselves? She refused to believe the culture that had built the Citadel and opened windows into countless corners of the galaxy had been bested by something like disease, or some bizarre natural phenomenon. The meager evidence that had been found was sufficient to rule out some kind of internal civil war. The protheans had not rotted on their own roots. If they had, the simple truth was there would be more left to find.

That same logic also ruled out what might be the simplest answer, that they had just…left. Some, like that idiot Dr. Neliya, had created and somehow been allowed to _publish_ theories that the protheans had advanced to such a state that the Milky Way no longer held their interest. Using the relays, she theorized that they had somehow opened a door into a neighboring galaxy, stepped through it, and left. It sounded impressive, especially coming from Dr. Henell's lead graduate student. But Liara knew what Neliya didn't, because unlike Neliya, Liara didn't do her research from an office at the University of Serrice. She did it here, surrounded by the remnants of the protheans themselves. And what she had seen completely contradicted the idea that the protheans had just one day gotten bored and moved on.

Time alone was not enough to have worn away the traces of their existence to this degree. Fifty thousand years sounded like an eternity even to an asari, but in the eyes of the galaxy it was a mere eye blink. If the mass relays and the Citadel were still not only standing but fully functional, there was no reason to believe everything else had just crumbled into dust on its own. Whatever had happened had been so cataclysmic, so utter, that it had taken nearly all traces of the protheans with it. Finding out why was what had drawn Liara into the belly of this hellhole.

She tried to imagine the Therum that the protheans had seen, the place some had once called home, instead of the poisonous pit that had greeted her upon arrival. Planetary core samples indicated that at some point it had probably been not only capable of supporting life, but perhaps done so in spectacular fashion. It was hard to overlay the volcanos belching rivers of fire, the sulfur infused air, the roiling black skies and intense heat with a garden world that once reared a powerful civilization.

How many more towers like this one, entirely constructed underground, might there be on this planet? Had the conditions started to shift before the protheans had vanished? Had they known something was wrong, and tried to preserve something, anything, that might help them weather it? Had they left it here hoping – knowing – that someone like Liara might come along looking for answers?

Ok, that last thought was a little too romantic. _You've been alone here too long._

She dug around in a case she had left near an old mining laser, looking for that power source. A glance at her chronometer told her it was much, much later than she realized. Usually when she was on a dig she had a few colleagues with her that helped maintain some semblance of normalcy. But down here by herself, any notion of a regular sleeping/eating schedule had been totally destroyed by day two. It might not be healthy, but she didn't think she'd ever been so _exhilarated_ on an expedition before. Here she wasn't sharing anything with anyone, compromising her priorities, conforming to someone else's agenda. Here it was just her, surrounded by the ghosts of a culture she treasured more than her own. If her mother could see her now, covered from head to toe in dust, sustained on nothing but freeze dried rations and sleeping on a cot under a mining laser, she'd faint.

"Found it!" she said out loud, startling herself as her own voice echoed back to her off the walls of the cavern. She flushed a little.

The power source purred to life in her hand. She connected it to the fragment and waited, hoping something might happen. Nothing.

She let out a small sigh of frustration. _Maybe there's something in the tower you can use._

The buried tower was a cylindrical space spanning five levels. A massive central core – _oh, the data that is probably stored in there!_ – ran the length of it. Surrounding it on each level were several compartments, almost like storage bays, that were empty save for a handful of ancient terminals. A platform that probably provided elevator access to each level was stuck on the bottom floor. The mining tunnels didn't reach that deep and she hadn't spent time trying to get it to work from here. It was one thing to trust the mine elevators. They were rickety, but at least she knew when they'd been built. Trusting a fifty thousand year old platform was a little much, even for her.

She found it odd that there was no apparent exit to the surface. Just getting to the uppermost level involved using the abandoned mine tunnels the humans had built and descending about a hundred meters into the rock. That was one thing that made her think the protheans might have built it with the intention of concealing it entirely from the surface. Whatever the original means they had used to access it was either gone, or hadn't been discovered yet.

She rubbed at the sensitive skin on her neck just under her skull crest. The two weeks she'd spent down in this hole had made her normally sky blue skin dull and dry, but she refused to admit she might actually have an allergy problem. An archeologist sensitive to dust and dry places? Please.

There was another thing that bothered her about the tower, something she hadn't written about yet. In part because she wasn't sure she was right and also because there was no way Neliya or anyone associated with her would allow Liara to publish it without railing against her credibility. This tower just didn't _seem_ prothean. Oh, they had definitely used it. There was no question the piece she held in her hand along with many others she had found here were distinctly prothean. But the construction of the core itself, its curved, unadorned walls, the low ceilings and just…the feeling of it, were utterly incongruent with other prothean ruins she had explored. It could have simply come from a different age of prothean history, maybe an earlier one that hadn't been well documented yet. But Liara didn't think so.

This wasn't the first time she had encountered something like this, though it was the first time on this big of a scale. Up until now it had been little things, small artifacts and bits of technology that were associated with prothean finds, but seemed somehow un-prothean. As though they had been studying something.

_As though maybe they, too, had found evidence of some long dead culture, and were trying to figure out what had happened to them_.

That thought in itself was alarming, but even more so was her hunch – unverified, but she was _sure_ – that those small, seemingly insignificant but disparate pieces were not from one previous culture, but many.

Enough to suggest a repeated cycle of extinction on a massive scale.

What if the protheans had seen what she saw, and were trying to find out the cause, only to suffer the same fate? The implications were too terrifying to think about.

Liara had managed to dump power to the terminals in the compartment bays shortly after her arrival. The rush of adrenaline she'd felt when the light panels had flared to life, wreathing the tower in an ethereal glow had been one of the most exhilarating things she'd ever felt. Of course, it had been almost immediately followed by a near heart attack when she'd accidentally triggered a barrier curtain that trapped her inside the core. Thankfully it was easy enough to deactivate; apparently a security measure meant to keep others out rather than keep her in.

She approached the closest terminal, eying the piece in her hand and searching for some kind of slot that might match. The terminal, at least, was definitely prothean, and thankfully one with a tactile interface.

Though she hadn't found a place to connect it, the piece in her hand began to thrum. The groove on the front began to glow a soft blue . A shiver of excitement wound through her. _It works! _Now it was just a matter of trying to find a way to access it.

An alarm klaxon sounded. Liara frowned and craned her head to look back towards the mine cavern. Was that her proximity alarm? She had only set it up to alert her that the shuttle had come to pick her up from Nova Yekaterinburg, but that wasn't supposed to be for another month. She doubted anyone from the colony had come looking for her. They had seemed totally uninterested in the ruins when she arrived. It had been a lot harder than she'd thought to even charter a shuttle out here.

She walked cautiously back towards the cavern. Above her head there was a clatter and the slow creak of the mining elevator. Someone was here. _Goddess!_

Frantically she tried to remember where she'd stuffed her pistol. In one of the bags by the mining laser. If she ran she might be able to get it before whoever it was reached this level. She took two quick strides, then halted in her tracks. Three drones drifted lazily past the front of the bay, flitting about like bees. When they spotted Liara they snapped to attention, leveling the barrel of a machine gun right at her head.

With a gasp she drew a hand across herself, a blue biotic corona flaring to life and quickly enveloping her in a protective skin-tight bubble. The drones' first barrage clattered off her body with a shower of blue sparks but sent her stumbling backwards. She pivoted hard on one foot, spinning around as she fell to her knees hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Bracing herself with one hand she pushed back to her feet, ignoring the lancing pain in her right knee and ran for the core. When she reached the terminal she whipped around and held up one hand, feeling every nerve in her body tingle as a plume dark energy snaked up her arm. She hurled the field towards the drones, creating a shearing vortex that trapped them like flies in a web. They spasmed, jerked, the forces of gravity in the powerful field working to rip them apart.

The elevator arrived, bringing with it a conflux of distorted, mechanical sounds.

Liara slammed her hand down on the panel to activate the barrier. It sprang to life, but too late she realized she'd hit something other than the trigger mechanism by accident. With a scream she was swept into the air and dragged _inside_ the curtain, suspended inside a bubble with her arms and legs outstretched, locked solidly in place. Around the corner from the direction of the elevator bobbed several metallic heads with blue lights gleaming from the center of their would-be faces, followed by a giant krogan.

_Oh, _Goddess_—_

* * *

Shepard looked around at the desolate landscape of Therum, trying not to breathe too deeply. Even inside the safety of his helmet the air didn't seem safe. The planet was every bit as unpleasant as the records indicated it would be. The pungent reek of sulfur made the air thick and heavy, lava churned and boiled in long, weaving rivers and steam hissed from open vents. The temperature readings picked up by his suit were uncomfortably high. His air circulators were working overtime just to keep him cool.

Heavy mining had made parts of the region unstable, meaning Pressly had done his best to find a reliable drop point within decent range of T'Soni's supposed dig site. What he had come up with was a few meters from the site itself, near a canyon that was one of the few locations in the area not in the immediate path of the twisting ribbons of lava flowing uncomfortably nearby. Provided there wasn't an impending seismic shift.

He had hoped this would be nothing more than simple recon mission. Get in, grab the doctor – willingly or no – and get out. But that was before they'd entered the system and picked up the geth drop ship in orbit.

"Pressly," Shepard said into his comm.

"_I hear you, Commander."_

"Any sign that the geth have seen us?"

"_Negative. _

"Good. Keep me posted."

"_Aye, sir. Normandy out."_

He surveyed his team. Garrus was fiddling with the scope on his sniper rifle. With his helmet the turian looked even more birdlike, the tapered place where it covered his crest reminiscent of the nape of a cardinal.

Tali crouched next to a boulder, programming a few extra tech mines. Inside her suit, this hostile environment was no different than any other. If the air on the _Normandy_ was a threat to the weak quarian immune system, there wasn't much reason to worry more about Therum. She carried a pistol and the shotgun she'd had on her when they'd had their encounter in the alley. When Shepard had offered her any shotgun in the _Normandy's _arsenal she had vehemently refused. Something about that shotgun was deeply personal to her, so for now Shepard left it alone.

Wrex stood still as a statue, head tilted into the wind as though he were sniffing out their enemy. He was fully encased in the heavy, rust colored Mercenary armor that oddly enough was made by Ariake Technologies, a human corporation. The krogan was intimidating enough on his own, but the red orbs covering his eyes and the fearsome looking respirators on either side of his helmet made him seem more like a mindless, terrifying Frankenstein construct than a living, breathing being. In his hands he clutched the giant krogan shotgun he'd 'retrieved' from C-Sec before their departure from the Citadel. Strapped to his back was a Banshee assault rifle.

Alenko was coordinating the best route to their target with his omnitool while Williams looked around at the aliens with careful wariness. At first Shepard had thought about just taking Alenko and Williams, but he hadn't brought the aliens on board to sit around and do nothing. No time like the present to see if this disparate bunch could all fight on the same team.

The ridge where Joker had dropped them off overlooked a narrow, sloping descent pocked with boulders leading down into the canyon and back up the other side, where the old mine that served as Liara's dig site was located. The center of the canyon was much broader, obscured by rock formations that would at least provide some cover. But it also meant they couldn't see what the geth were doing.

He glanced at Tali who approached him almost nervously, omnitool out. "What do you see?" he asked her.

"I'm reading a lot of geth in the canyon. We'll have to try to get past them undetected."

In their mission briefing she had done her best to explain how the geth functioned. Their neural network operated on a process based level that grew more efficient the more geth there were in proximity. Not a hive mind, she had been careful to point out, but more of a shared synthetic "subconscious" that allowed them to free up processing power by coordinating low level functions. The gist of it was, the more there were, the smarter they got.

"Even if we can slip past them to get in, we'll still have to deal with them when we get out, and I'd rather take care of them now and not have to fight them on two fronts."

She nodded brusquely.

"Got enough mines ready?"

She patted the pouch at her side. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Shepard had sent her off with Alenko before their arrival in hopes of finding out why his sabotage mine had failed on Eden Prime. The young engineer had taken his LT to task, showing him a few tricks that had left him slackjawed. That was one pair at least he knew could work together. Tali was brilliant and Alenko didn't let his ego get in the way of performance.

He called over to Garrus, who came smartly to attention.

"Sir?"

Shepard gestured towards the ridge. "Find yourself a good vantage point to cover us. Don't shoot until you have to. We want to keep the element of surprise as long as we can."

"No problem." He patted his rifle.

"Alenko, you Williams and Tali will take the left side of the canyon. Stay low, stay quiet. Williams. Your job is to cover them and make sure they can fire those tech mines at will." He looked over at the krogan. "Wrex, you're with me. We're going to take out as many as we can as fast as we can." He wasn't confident yet that the krogan could be trusted to look out for someone else, but with the others on distraction detail that left the brute force to Shepard. And he was pretty sure brute force was something he could definitely trust a krogan with.

"Good," Wrex rumbled, hefting his shotgun.

Shepard nodded. "We regroup at the dig site. Understood?"

He got a chorus of affirmations.

"Move out."

The five of them navigated the descent into the canyon carefully and quietly, using the rock face for cover wherever possible. Shepard's radar detected several pockets of geth clustered in the center of the canyon. What they were _doing_ he couldn't say, but at least they weren't too strung out. He'd rather attack them all at once.

"Machines," Wrex muttered over the comm. "If I came all this way just to fight a few piles of walking scrap metal I'll be disappointed in you, Shepard."

"Give it a little time," Shepard told him. "We're after a rogue Spectre. Before long there'll be plenty of things trying to kill us."

As they got closer he could hear them, the same discordant mechanical tones he'd heard on Eden Prime. No discernible words, just sounds. Shepard had no idea if it was some form of verbal communication or something else entirely.

He signaled to Wrex to hold when they reached an outcrop that would allow him to get a better look and carefully he peered over the rock. There were no drones, but several of the standard trooper units along with a few of the bigger ones with the antennas. Wrex caught sight of the rocket launchers and made a guttural noise in his throat.

These geth did not seem to be patrolling so much as working on something. What it was didn't matter. All Shepard cared about was that they were clustered relatively close together.

Something moved on his periphery, swift and low to the ground. If they wanted to use the element of surprise, it was now or never.

"Tali," he said into his comm, hoping they were in position as planned. "_Now."_

Six small discs sailed through the air, detonating instantly with a spray of orange sparks in the midst of the geth. Overheat klaxons shrieked. At least three troopers seized at contorted angles. Wrex charged out of cover, barreling straight for the big trooper carrying a rocket launcher. He clamped down on one of its synthetic arms and roared, yanking it forward and using his own weight as a pivot. As it stumbled Wrex let go with one hand and ripped the rocket launcher right off its back. With a deep throated laugh he fired it point blank in the machine's own back. The geth exploded into shrapnel.

Another trooper came up behind the giant krogan but Shepard got to it first, mowing it down with his assault rifle. Two more geth fell sputtering. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alenko and Williams searching for a new position further up the canyon.

So far it was easy. _Way_ too easy…

Shepard whirled as something leapt through the air behind him. Clinging to the rock behind him was a geth completely unlike the others he'd seen. It was built like a biped but moved more like a spider, scuttling on four limbs it could anchor into the wall, head rotated outward like a thing possessed. It did not carry a weapon, but Shepard quickly realized it didn't need to. A red laser beam sprang from the circle of light in the center of its face and came to rest directly on Shepard's forehead. There was no time to react.

A deafening crack shattered the air to the left of his face. The geth shuddered and dropped into a tangle of limbs on the ground.

_Garrus._

"Watch out for the hoppers!" Shepard shouted into his comm. "Now's our chance. Make for the ridge!"

Wrex and Williams laid down suppressive fire as Tali planted more mines behind them to slow down any geth still in the canyon. From the sound of things Garrus was thinning the herd one by one.

"_I've got you covered, Shepard," _the turian reported. _"They can't get to your location without coming in to scope."_

"Good work, Garrus. Stay sharp. We may be looking for a quick exit when this is over."

Too late Shepard realized the path out of the canyon led them right into a bottleneck. At the top of the far ridge the path jagged to the right, taking them right in front of two sentry towers.

A piece of rock shattered just to the right of his head. Snipers. _Damn._

Alenko had also seen the danger. Shepard saw him stop, inhale deeply. The air around him contorted as gravity rearranged itself with Alenko as a tether. The blue glow that enveloped his frame contorted violently, then erupted as he hurled it in the direction of the sniper. Shepard thought it would be too far, even for an L2 like Kaidan, but a moment later the geth in the tower rose struggling into the air. Alenko jerked his arms like he was delivering a body blow, and the geth went sailing into a rock.

"Nice," Shepard said into his comm.

They crested the ridge swiftly and found an abandoned camp filled with old mining equipment. A trail of hoists, drills, bores and slushers littered ground amidst the entrance scaffolding that had been left in place, either due to oversight or the expense of removal. A few chains creaked in the wind. The door leading down into the mine itself had been forced open.

Shepard raised his gun. "Williams, Tali. I need you to guard the entrance. Keep the geth out, and whatever's in there in. Unless it's us."

"Yes, sir." He thought he detected a note of resignation in Williams' voice.

"Stay in contact with Garrus. If he can clear the canyon tell him to get his ass over here." Shepard caught sight of Alenko's face. "You all right?" Blood was dripping from his nose, with a couple of spatters sliding down the inside of his faceplate.

Alenko straightened his shoulders. "Fine, Commander. I don't normally try to fling them around from that far away. It's nothing."

Wrex snorted. "Humans are soft."

"I said it was nothing," Alenko retorted.

"Focus on the mission," Shepard told them. "Let's find Dr. T'Soni and get the hell out of here. I don't know what they were assembling in that canyon, but I'd rather not be here long enough to find out."

* * *

Liara had lost all sense of time. Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? She didn't know.

Her body ached. Her throat burned. The hunger pains she'd felt at first had retreated into dull emptiness.

_I am going to die in here._

Despite the lead in her limbs and the exhaustion clouding her brain she stayed conscious. When she closed her eyes a dizzying torrent of thoughts took over. She saw the protheans – what she imagined them to look like, anyway – building their tower, then being swept away by rivers of lava. The protheans would climb to higher ground, looking for safety, but geth would reach out from the fires and pull them under as they screamed…

She had stopped trying to sleep.

The geth, directed by a _krogan_, had been trying to get to her. They'd been down in her makeshift camp, rooting through her things. So far they had failed. Before she had been glad. Now she almost hoped they would succeed, just to end it.

She wished her mother was here.

That she even thought about her mother was something of a surprise. She couldn't remember the last time they spoke. Liara didn't know why of all the people who might come to her aid, Benezia was the one she thought of first.

_Because she's your mother, and that used to mean something. _

Ah Benezia, in her yellow gowns and that stupid headdress Liara had idolized so much as a child. How she had revered her mother when she was little! Wanted to be just like her. Until the protheans had swept her off her feet, awakening her passion for the past and desire to root out the secrets of a doomed race.

_You are my daughter. The future is our concern. Let the dead rest. _

But Liara couldn't. She insisted on looking backward while her mother looked forward. Instead of political galas and social soirees Liara preferred the dust and dirt of ancient artifacts. She preferred the dead to the living.

And now she was far away from home, with no one here to save her from her own foolishness. Goddess, what if her mother had been right?

She struggled weakly in the field. She hadn't heard the geth in a while. Though she didn't remember seeing them leave maybe they had. Given up and left her to starve to death. In the ultimate irony she would perish alongside the ghosts she had pursued so fruitlessly for so long.

There had been a message from her mother, she remembered suddenly. That was why she was thinking of her. The first time either of them had made any effort to contact each other since she'd left the University to head out on her first dig. It had arrived in a batch right before she'd left for Therum, but its contents had been so cryptic she hadn't known what to make of them.

_Little Wing, we must speak. There are big things on the horizon for all of us. We need your help to find something. Something important. We believe that some of your research might point us to it. _

Liara hadn't responded, and she wasn't sure why. Something about the enigmatic "we" had made her uneasy, but in the end she'd been too busy to give it much thought.

Her eyes welled up with tears. After all this time she had not even missed her mother, but now the thought that she had lost her chance to see her one last time brought on a deep swell of unexpected sorrow.

_I'm sorry, mother. So sorry. I wish it could have been different. _

She drifted again, lost in thoughts of protheans and fire. Time ebbed and flowed without continuity. When she could block out the protheans she thought of her childhood, sitting on the veranda of her mother's estate on Thessia, lazily swinging her feet as she poured through a history book instead of practicing her biotics in the courtyard like she'd been told. She could almost feel the sun on her face, smell the areinzas in bloom. Hear the clip of her mother's shoes and the swish of her gown as she approached, scowl painted over her smooth, perfect face.

_You are more than this, Little Wing,_ her mother had scolded her.

_But what if I'm not?_ she'd wanted to argue.

_I need your help to find something. something important. _

Wait. That wasn't the right memory.

Benezia spoke again, but this time instead of words there was the grind of rusted gears. Liara opened her eyes. The estate vanished, replaced by the swirling glow of her prison.

The elevator was moving. Or trying. It creaked, squealed, then screeched to a halt. Her makeshift repairs had finally given out. It was the only way she knew to reach the surface.

Gunfire. Was she imagining gunfire? There had been drones guarding her position, but she didn't see them now.

"Hello!" she croaked. "Is someone out there?"

"Dr. T'Soni?"

There was someone standing in front of her. At first she had no idea what species, what gender…all she saw were blue eyes. _Shockingly_ blue, bluer than her own skin, burning with raw intensity that took her breath away. Behind those irises was a turbulent well so deep she thought it might not have a bottom.

She shut her eyes and released a shaky breath. When she opened them again she saw that the blue eyes belonged to a man, human, flanked by two others. One, she realized with a sharp skewer of fear, was a krogan.

With a shudder she tried to focus in on the human's face. Tune the rest out. If she couldn't see the krogan, maybe he wasn't there.

The blue-eyed human sized her up for a moment, cradling his helmet in the crook of his arm. There was a small scar on the left side of his forehead that curved into his hairline.

"Are you real?" she breathed.

"Last time I checked," he heard him say. The sound of his voice, so _real_ it was almost tangible, brought on a freshet of tears. This wasn't in her head. She wasn't imagining him.

"Thank the Goddess," she choked out. "I did not think anyone would come looking for me."

The human raised an eyebrow. "I think you're about to find out that there are actually a _lot _of people looking for you."

(_we need your help to find something. something important)_

"Who are you?" she begged.

"Commander Shepard," he replied. "This is Lt. Alenko, and Urdnot Wrex. We're here to help."

A sense of urgency overwhelmed her. "You're not going to believe this, but there are geth here!"

"Oh, we believe it," the one called Alenko muttered.

"Geth outside the Veil," she wondered aloud. "What are they doing here?"

"Looking for you," Shepard informed her.

Liara shut her eyes again, straining to move her hands. She wanted to rub her eyes. More than food, water and rest she wanted to rub her eyes…just to make sure that afterward he was still there. "Please. I'm trapped. I need your help."

Desperation clawed at her. Her heart rate sped up and it became harder to breathe. Shepard's voice cut through, calm and reassuring. "What can we do?"

She forced her foggy brain to think. "You…have to find a way to lower the barrier. The geth have been down in my camp in the mine, trying to find a way to disable it. I don't know if they're still there." Something else occurred to her. "Oh! There's a krogan." She forced back a giggle. "Two krogan. Imagine that!"

"First thing's first," the krogan said. "Whose side are you on?"

"This side," she said, before realizing that probably wasn't what he meant. "Wait. What?"

The Alenko human exhaled. "We've got to get her out of there, Commander. She's exhausted. From the looks of it she needs fluids, food… "

"I noticed," Shepard replied, his blue eyes never leaving Liara's face. "The geth are here under the orders of a former Spectre named Saren," he told her. "He's gone rogue. Your mother is working with him."

(_little wing, we must speak)_

"I…I haven't spoken to my mother in years. What do they want with me?"

"They're looking for a prothean artifact."

_(we need your help to find something. something important.) _

_Mother, what have you done?_

She struggled again. "Please help me," she said, a terrified hitch entering her voice. "There is a control panel behind me that should deactivate the field, but you have to find some way past the barrier curtain to get to it."

Shepard considered this for a moment, then nodded, as though it were as simple as opening a window. "Ok. Leave it to us."

There was no reason to think it was as easy as he made it sound. She _knew _it wasn't as easy as he made it sound. But somehow she believed him. She wasn't going to die in here. Shepard, whoever he was, would find a way. He would get her out.


	13. Chapter 13: De Medio Ignis

**Chapter 13. De Medio Ignis**

The geth were up to something. Ashley Williams stood in the sentry tower Alenko had cleared out on their way up, using the scope of her sniper rifle to try and catch sight of the stragglers still left in the canyon. The goddamn tin heads were smarter than they looked. Between their firefight and Garrus' constant sniping they had identified the lines of sight and were now carefully avoiding them.

"What the hell are they doing down there?" she muttered.

"I don't know," Tali answered from the ground below, causing Ashley to startle, "but whatever it is must be more important than stopping us, and that can't be good."

"Ok, so you hear through that hood better than I expected," she said aloud, wanting to kick herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She heard the quarian shuffle below her. With a sigh she planted her eye against the scope once more. No one would argue tact was one of her strengths.

"Garrus," she hissed into the comm. "See anything?"

"_Negative," _the turian replied, sounding almost bored. _"They're out of sight for now. I count about six of them on radar, but none of them are making a move." _

"Well that's comforting," she muttered.

"_Relax, Chief. I can't see them now, but there's no way they can make it to your end of the canyon without coming into scope. Whatever they've got won't get far."_

"Easy for you to say," she said softly to herself. She was putting her life in the hands of a turian. The irony of it was almost more than she could handle. If Sonsini had told her she would go from slumming it on a planetside garrison to fighting geth in what looked and smelled like the bowels of a volcano with nothing but a quarian and a turian for backup she would have laughed in his face.

_What's your deal with aliens_? Alenko had asked her. She'd wanted to scream back, _what's yours?_ Humanity had been on the galactic scene for less than thirty years and was suddenly throwing their lot in with any alien species that knocked on their door, some of which had been perusing the galaxy while humanity had still been figuring out Sanskrit. Everyone seemed to believe that the asari, the salarians, even the turians, had their best interests at heart.

Her 'deal' with aliens came down to not being able to figure out why humans were convinced they needed someone else's help to balance on their own two feet. Cooperation was one thing. Cooperation was fine. But all of this ass kissing to land a seat on the Council was almost too much to take. If humanity wanted power so bad they should earn it on their own, not demand someone else give it to them.

Everyone seemed to think naming Shepard to the Spectres was a win-win, including Shepard himself. The way Ashley saw it, the Council had merely found a convenient way to deal with more than one problem. Humanity would shut up for a while and take care of their Saren problem at the same time. If they succeeded, everyone got something out of the deal. If they didn't, the Council had the perfect opportunity to tell humanity to take a seat and let the adults handle things.

But no one was interested in the way she saw things. Her job was to kill the bad things and save the good things. She was good at the former, but the latter was still a pretty big hole in her resume.

"How many more tech mines do we have?" she called down to Tali.

"A few," she replied, though some of the earnestness was gone from her voice. _Way to go, Williams. You made the new girl feel bad_.

Ashley knocked some dirt off her boot against the wall of the sentry tower. She was back in her Phoenix armor. Funny how wearing it had seemed so exciting a few days ago. Now she desperately wished she had something – anything – else, even if it meant her old Predator suit. There was too much blood on this one. She'd blown Bourdelle's head off in this suit, just not fast enough to save McIllheney. And he wasn't the only one. She was pretty sure the husk that had killed Jenkins had once been Yvetz. Ashley had hated that fat fingered weapons specialist, but he hadn't deserved to die that way. None of them had.

A rumble from down in the canyon snapped her back to attention. Tali reflexively drew her pistol. Ashley looked down her scope again. "Garrus? What's going on?"

There was a brief pause before his reply.

"_Oh, shit." _

* * *

Shepard found a staircase that would take them down a level to the camp Dr. T'Soni had described for them, hoping she'd been lucid enough to be right about the geth. The staircase was in no better shape than the elevator had been. He wasn't sure whether T'Soni's insistence on coming here alone was pure boldness or blatant naiveté.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Alenko asked.

The staircase creaked under their weight, but held.

"About being trapped in a bubble she can't get out of? Don't see why she wouldn't be." Shepard could feel Alenko roll his eyes without needing to turn around. "If you mean the part about her not knowing why the geth want her, I'd say probably yes. I don't think she'd voluntarily plant herself in that bubble just to throw us off her trail."

Wrex grunted. "Subterfuge. Coward's way to fight."

Shepard held up his hand to silence them, but there was no need. Their radars had all lit up. T'Soni had been right. The staircase led to an open cavern littered with mining equipment and a few crates with her supplies, all of which were now being carefully picked over by four geth. They had coopted some of her equipment and set up some of their own, apparently looking for a way to get past the barrier. Considering the asari's current state they hadn't had much luck.

Standing just apart from the geth and looking quite bored was a krogan mercenary armed almost as well as Wrex. At the sight of them, the boredom vanished.

"What the hell is this?" the krogan asked, leveling an interested stare at Wrex.

Shepard didn't see much point in mincing words. "We're here for the asari."

The krogan's scaly lips curled in a reptilian sneer. "Good. That will at least make things more fun."

Wrex inhaled deeply. Alenko's hand was on his pistol, but Shepard blocked him with an arm. "I think we'll let Wrex handle the krogan."

"I think that's a great idea," Alenko replied.

* * *

Something _unfolded_ in the canyon, rising above the obscuring rocks with slow, deliberate exertion. The watery light that had managed to penetrate the sulfuric clouds hovering above them glinted off something metal.

"Keelah, it's a geth!" Tali cried.

Ashley stared. Down in the canyon she could see a now-familiar orb of blue light gleamed from a metal cowl that was distinctly geth, but that was the only thing it had in common with the other bipeds they'd fought so far. Its head was anchored to a compact body by a long, trunk-like neck covered with heavily armored plates. The machine's bulk was supported on four jointed legs that reminded her of a spider. Her hardsuit calculated its height at about four meters.

Its flashlight face swung towards them, legs torqueing to accommodate it with uncanny agility. That blue light was searching for them. No, _targeting._ It wasn't just a pretty flashlight.

"Is that a cannon?" Ashley asked, unable to keep the dread out of her voice.

She didn't have to wait for an answer. The blue light contorted, then released a siege pulse that struck the tower with shattering force just as she dove off. Ashley hit the ground with a thud. The air vacated her lungs as she rolled, shielding herself from chunks of falling debris with one arm. Her hardsuit alarms whined in protest as slag refracted off her shields with a hiss. _Breach, _she thought numbly when she saw the red indicator in her HUD_. There's a breach in my hardsuit_.

Someone – Tali – grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the rocks.

"_Oh yeah, that's a cannon," _Garrus quipped. _"Chief, you all right?"_

Ashley gasped, trying to suck air back into her lungs.

"I've got her," Tali said, breathlessly. "She's ok."

The crack of Garrus' sniper rifle reverberated through the canyon. Ashley didn't need to see to know a slug from an Equilizer was going to bother that beast about as much as kicking it in the shin. She tried to sit up but Tali forced her back down. "Hang on, Chief. I need to seal the breach."

Ashley glanced down. Blood spattered her hardsuit along her abdomen. She must have rolled over some shrapnel when she hit the ground. _I don't even feel it_.

Tali pulled a dose of medigel out a medkit and injected it through the breach. The slimy salve oozed under the fabric inner layer and spread across her skin, hardening swiftly to form a cold, tight seal. Ashley gritted her teeth.

"Hold still," Tali told her. The waver was completely gone from her voice, as though she'd done this a thousand times before. It was almost reassuring enough to take the sting out of being rescued by a quarian, a species that could be die just by breathing unfiltered air.

Once the medigel had set Tali manufactured a suit patch with her omnitool and fitted it carefully to the breach. It clamped down with a soft snick. The hardsuit alarms ceased.

"Williams to _Normandy_," Ashley wheezed, still trying to catch her breath.

Joker's reply was immediate. "_Right here, Chief." _

"We've got a giant geth down here with a face made out of mass accelerator cannon. A little help?"

"_I'll see what I can do, but the ground is awfully unstable down there. You know. Lava? We try to go after it and we might end up bringing you down with it."_

"It's gonna be a moot point in just a minute," she warned. Tali helped her to her feet. With a wince she reached over her shoulder for her assault rifle, thankful it was still there. Her sniper was buried somewhere under the remnants of the tower.

Tali touched her arm. "Wait. There are still geth in the valley."

"Not for long."

"No!" Tali said, tightening her grip. "We need them. I have a plan. Garrus, are you willing to provide a distraction?"

"_One I could live through would be great."_

"I need you to draw its fire."

"_I think you missed the part where I wanted to live."_

"Trust me."

To Ashley's astonishment, he did.

* * *

Shepard had seen Alenko deploy his barrier before. It was the work of a simple mnemonic to create a biotic field he shaped like clay to fit snug over his skin, a hard-earned skill that Alenko made look easy. But with Wrex, it was like watching a wrestling match between the krogan and gravity itself – and Wrex _won._ His entire body seethed with barely constrained blue flame that appeared to be just looking for a whiff of oxygen to erupt into a firestorm. It was a terrifying sight.

The other krogan, however, was not impressed. He had drawn a shotgun that was similar in make and model to the one Wrex held and had it ready.

The gun barked. In a surprisingly fluid motion Wrex rolled to the side, dodging the blast. He came up frighteningly fast for a creature his size, flinging a sphere of biotic energy. The krogan managed to evade it – barely – and the sphere hit the wall with a dull boom, lighting up the rocks with a blue crackle. But Wrex hadn't waited to see if the biotics would connect. The moment he hit his feet he became a massive projectile, barreling at his enemy with a roar.

They collided, Wrex bulling his head right into the krogan's sternum. The other krogan somehow still had his shotgun up. Wrex's barrier flashed an angry, turbid blue as a slug slammed into his chest. He backhanded the krogan's unprotected face with enough force to break an ordinary person's neck. As the krogan toppled back Wrex seized the shotgun, yanked down on the barrel and drove the butt of it into his enemy's chin.

The other krogan reeled, but snarled and kept his feet. With a blind bellow of rage he rammed into Wrex's shoulder, spinning him off balance. Wrex responded by drawing back his arm and letting loose with his fist, but what started as an open-handed punch ended with a powerful biotic discharge. This time he didn't miss.

It was a warp field – a well of rapidly shifting mass effect fields that ripped its target apart on a molecular level. The krogan screamed in pain. Wrex took advantage of the krogan's sudden helplessness to pull out his own shotgun and empty two rounds into the krogan's face.

A geth that had been approaching Wrex from behind dropped under a barrage from Shepard's assault rifle. Alenko took the shields down of another with an overload mine, which made it easy work for Shepard. The three of them turned their guns on the remaining two, bringing them down just as easily. These units had not been nearly as combat ready as the ones outside.

When it was over a thin haze of dust mingled with coppery tang of blood and scorched metal. One of T'Soni's crates was now pocked with bullet holes.

"Wrex," Alenko said, observing what was left of the other krogan. "I think you've just made not pissing you off one of my life goals."

The krogan grunted, but Shepard thought he'd taken it as a compliment.

"Now how do we take down that field?" Alenko asked.

Shepard approached one of the terminals the geth had set up. "Doesn't look like they were having much luck hacking their way through," he said. "Can you make anything of it?"

Alenko scoured the data. "Maybe," he said, "but it'll take a while. Doesn't look like they were going to succeed anytime soon."

"Not sure how much time we have," Shepard said. They needed to get T'Soni out soon, for her own sake and before reinforcements arrived. He looked around the cavern, pausing at the sight of a mining laser. "Think that still works?"

Alenko swiveled his head to look at the barrier, then back at Shepard. "You want to drill through the bubble? Pretty sure that won't end well for the doctor."

Now it was Shepard's turn to roll his eyes. "The barrier is only active on her level. We just need to get to the other side of it. If we can't get through, why not go under?" He glanced back in the direction they'd come from. On this level the prothean tower was still entombed in rock, but unless its layout changed at the bottom, presumably behind that rock was just another compartment. One that wasn't blocked by a curtain.

Wrex followed his gaze. "Now you're thinking like a krogan."

Shepard approached the laser, hoping it still worked. To his relief it kicked to life after two false starts. Carefully he aimed the beam at the wall, hoping that he wasn't going to bring the whole damn tower down. "Keep your fingers crossed," he said, then activated the laser.

The refined beam lanced the rock with a high pitched whine, kicking up a swirl of dust and debris. He eased off. The power output was higher than he anticipated, but it appeared to be working. Within moments enough rock had sheared away to clear a sloping path into the next level of the tower. No curtain in sight. So long as they could get back _up_ to her level from inside the core, they might just pull it off.

He glanced smugly at Alenko as he jumped down from the laser.

The cavern rumbled.

_Shit_.

"I suppose now is too late to wonder how stable all of this is," Alenko said.

Shepard brushed past them towards the newly created path. "Come on. Let's get her and get out of here."

They hurried through the tunnel and into the tower core, where the platform elevator that Dr. T'Soni had discovered but not been able to access was waiting for them. If it worked, they could take it all the way up to the upper level and use the mine tunnels to get out.

Fortunately T'Soni had done a good job of restoring power, and protheans had built things to last. The platform shook grudgingly to life as another rumble shook more debris loose from the rock.

_Faster_.

The asari nearly cried with relief when they appeared behind her. "Thank the Goddess," she said. "I really did not think anyone could get in here. Please – that panel over there should shut down the containment field."

Shepard found the panel she was talking about. His fingers hovered over the interface, looking for something that might disengage the field. Hesitantly he tapped a few keys. The field vanished, dumping Dr. T'Soni unceremoniously to the ground. Shepard hurried to her side, taking her by the arm and helping her to her feet. She gasped, wobbled, and fell into his chest, instinctively gripping his waist to keep from falling. Shepard seized hold of her with both arms. This close he was acutely aware of the panicked rise and fall of her chest. Even through his hardsuit he could tell she was cold, shivering, and running on sheer adrenaline. If he'd had any doubts she was lying about her allegiances they were gone now. This woman was well and truly frightened.

"Thank you," she said softly, resting her forehead briefly against his chestplate with an exhausted sigh.

The ground rumbled again, more violently this time.

"Don't thank me yet," Shepard said. "We still have to get out of here before the whole place comes down. Will that platform take us back up to the surface?"

"I think so," she replied.

"Can you walk?"

She nodded. Shepard wasn't sure he believed her, but he had to hope whatever reserves she had left were enough to get them back to the surface. He helped her towards the platform. The cavern trembled, then rolled under their feet. T'Soni lost her balance and Shepard reached out to grab her again.

His suit alerted him the air temperature was climbing steadily. There was a magma pocket nearby that the mining laser had apparently destabilized. So even if the cavern didn't collapse Shepard was guessing it wouldn't be long before they would be taking a swim in lava.

"Joker," he said into his comm, hoping like hell they could read him down here under all this rock. "Lock onto my signal and get the _Normandy_ inbound. We have to get out of here, now!"

"_On our way, Commander, but it might be a little complicated. Williams and her team have their hands full with a little problem on the surface." _

"Whatever the problem is, solve it! This whole place is coming down on our heads."

"_Understood." _

"If we die in here," Wrex growled, "I'll kill him."

T'Soni activated the platform, which began a slow rise to the surface. The walls of the tower groaned in protest.

"Williams! Get ready for an evac. We're getting out of here."

"_Yes, sir,"_ she replied, sounding breathless but thoroughly pleased.

"Everything all right up there?" he asked. "Joker said you had some problems."

"_Had, yeah. We're problem solvers, Skipper."_

Shepard smiled, in spite of himself. "Good."

The platform shuddered to a stop, depositing them on a series of ramps that led back to the surface access tunnel. Some had already been jarred loose or even collapsed. "Time to make a run for it!" Shepard said.

The cavern seized once again, harder and stronger this time. Debris shook loose from above them, raining down haphazardly amid the dust. The four of them barreled towards the tunnels, which Shepard prayed were still intact. He kept T'Soni firmly ahead of him in case she stumbled, amazed she could run at all.

"Go!" Shepard yelled, gesturing wildly with his arm .

They reached the tunnels and bolted for the surface, where the _Normandy_ was ready and waiting, Williams and Tali already aboard. Behind them the ground heaved, taking the tunnels with them and what was left of the ruins. A magma vent exploded near the entrance to the mine, sending a molten river coursing towards the very place they had been standing just moments ago.

As soon as Shepard's feet hit the _Normandy's _deck plates he peeled off his helmet and let it clatter to the floor. "Let's pick up Garrus and get the hell off this rock," he said into his comm.

"_Aye," _Joker agreed.

T'Soni stood with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily and swaying on her feet. Shepard took her by the shoulders and guided her to a storage crate, where she sat down gratefully and put her head in her hands.

Wind whipped through the cargo bay door as the _Normandy _skimmed across the canyon. Below Shepard saw a smoking metallic ruin amidst the rock formations. He glanced at Tali and Williams. "Your handiwork?"

Williams nodded to Tali. "Her idea. I just provided the cover fire."

Wrex ambled to the ramp when they reached Garrus and reached out to catch him by the talons as he leaped onboard. Shepard wished he could see the turian's expression under the helmet. No doubt there was some part of him that thought Wrex might just throw him off rather than help him up.

Once they were in the cargo door slid closed. Garrus pulled his helmet off and exhaled in relief.

"They have armatures," Tali exclaimed. "Too big to take down conventionally without our own cannon." She glanced at the Mako looming to their right.

"So what did you do?" Alenko asked, cradling his helmet in his arm and wiping the now-dried blood off his nose.

Tali straightened her shoulders proudly. "I identified some lower level geth processes with weaker firewalls than the primary systems. I hacked my way in and temporarily reprogrammed them to fire on their own armature!"

"You can do that?" Shepard asked.

"Well, I wasn't sure until we tried it."

Shepard grinned, amazed. "Nice work."

"Do I get any credit for deliberately drawing the fire of a mass accelerator cannon and living to tell about it?" Garrus asked lightly.

"If you have to ask, then no," Wrex replied.

Garrus flicked a mandible, but said nothing.

"Everyone ok?" Shepard asked.

"Chief Williams needs to be checked out by Dr. Chakwas," Tali spoke up. "She took some shrapnel."

"It's fine," Williams insisted, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "No biggie."

Shepard tilted his head towards the elevator. "Med bay. Go."

She sighed, but trudged towards the elevator.

"You too," he said to T'Soni. "We need to get you checked out." Gently he eased her to her feet, standing close in case she wavered. "Everyone meet in the comm room in an hour for a debrief," Shepard ordered.

There was a chorus of acknowledgements. Shepard gripped the asari's wrist and ducked his head under her arm so it looped around his shoulders. Gingerly he slid his other arm around her waist. Once he was sure she wasn't going to fall they followed Williams to the elevator. T'Soni tried to protest his assistance, but when she was too exhausted to do more than murmur something about getting there on her own Shepard refused to let go.

"Going to be hard to find it yourself when you don't know where it is," he pointed out to her.

"Mmm," she replied.

When the three of them reached the elevator Williams smacked the wall switch to take them to the crew deck. She eyed the asari suspiciously.

"Where'd you get hit?" Shepard asked her.

The chief rubbed her abdomen, where he could see a field patch. A good one, too, presumably the work of their new resident quarian. Shepard felt a flush of satisfaction. Udina had objected strongly to bringing her along, but already she'd proven to be more valuable than even Shepard had suspected. She'd hacked a _geth. _On a spur of the moment whim.

After a near eternity the elevator doors finally slid open on the crew deck. A few crew members looked on in surprise at the sight of the asari. Shepard stepped out of the elevator, but T'Soni tottered and sagged against him. Without a second thought he slid one arm under her shoulders, hooked the other around the back of her knees and lifted her easily off the ground. He got one more small murmur of protest before carrying her the rest of the way to the med clinic. _Welcome to the _Normandy_, Liara T'Soni._


	14. Chapter 14: Colesco

**14. Colesco**

When Liara opened her eyes she had no idea where she was. In a panic she tried to sit up. A strong hand met her shoulder and gently pressed her back down.

"Easy," a voice said.

She turned her head and saw a pair of sharp, blue eyes.

_It was real_, she thought, heart racing. _He was real. I'm safe._

She blinked a few times. The room was dim, the air strong with the mingled scent of astringent and disinfectant. She was in a med clinic. Somewhere in the fog of her brain she remembered running, leaping…_Ship. I'm on a ship. _The human commander – Shepard – was seated next to her.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and smiled, putting a hand to her forehead. "Alive," she said.

"Well…that's a start," Shepard replied.

She lowered her hand and looked over at him. His expression was relaxed but tired, with dark circles resting heavily under his eyes. One arm was draped in his lap, the other propped on a small table to the left of her bed. He'd exchanged his armor for what looked like military issue clothing. The sleeves went only as far as the middle of his upper arm, and in the focused light of the medical lamp above her bed she saw hundreds of subtle, tiny hairs dotting his skin.

He angled his head slightly, wondering what she was looking at. There was something so patient, kind about his expression. She flushed. Stuttered a little.

"I…didn't think I was going to get out of there. Thank you."

Shepard rubbed the back of his neck. "According to Dr. Chakwas you were pretty dehydrated. Exhausted. Sorry we couldn't get to you sooner."

She shuddered at the memory of the barrier curtain, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. Never again would she take for granted the use of all her limbs.

"Can I get you anything?" Shepard asked. "Dr. Chakwas stepped out for a few minutes to get something to eat. If I neglect her patient she'll throw me out an airlock."

Liara smiled in spite of herself. She was thirsty, hungry, even still a little tired, but all of it paled in the face of her curiosity. "I'm ok," she said. "What I'd really like is…" she hesitated, looking anywhere but Shepard's face. That poised, unwavering gaze made it hard to organize her still muddled thoughts. Shepard said nothing, merely waited for her to collect herself.

"I still don't understand," she said finally. "How is my mother involved in all of this? Why did they want me?"

He rested his head against his fingertips. "I was hoping you could tell me that. There's a lot we still don't know."

"We need your help to find something," Liara murmured to herself. "Something important."

"What?" Shepard picked his head up.

Liara shook her head, embarrassed she'd spoken aloud. "I'm sorry. My mother and I haven't spoken for years. But right before I left for Therum she sent me a message. It said she was looking for something she thought I could help her find, but it didn't say what."

"The conduit," Shepard replied.

Conduit. Her mind raced. The prothean archives on Thessia. Liara remembered it from one of her first papers about prothean extinction. It had been a reference she'd found that the archive referred to it as a 'conduit to salvation,' if the translation was correct. Liara had been beside herself, thinking she'd found the answer, the key to the protheans' fate. But she had never been able to find the right context for it, and even more frustrating she hadn't been able to determine the data's origin. The asari collection of prothean data was vast, assembled from caches discovered across the galaxy over the course of centuries. Apparently some of the older record keeping left something to be desired.

After her theory had been laughed at by enough people she had more or less moved on, forgetting about the conduit altogether. Whatever it was, if it was anything at all, had not come up again anywhere else.

Had her mother, in some great irony, discovered something that she herself had not?

"Do you know what it is?" Shepard prodded.

She shook her head, explained about the paper. "It was nothing. A silly theory. No one ever took me seriously."

Shepard tilted his head slightly. "Maybe not so silly as you think."

"Benezia must have found that paper," she said with a frown. "She probably thinks I know more. But I'm sorry to say that I don't. Why would she want it? What does she and…" she thought quickly, trying to remember the name Shepard had said, "…Saren want with the protheans?"

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "You're an expert on the prothean extinction, correct?"

"Yes," she replied, turning her gaze to him with a measure of pride.

"What do you think happened?"

A thrill ran through her and she sat up a little in the bed. This time he didn't stop her. She could count on one hand the number of times someone had flat out asked her, though she'd done everything but shout from the rooftops for nearly two decades.

"The popular theory right now is that they did something to themselves," she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost faster than she could keep up. "Some self-inflicted galactic catastrophe. But I don't believe that. Something else was responsible. Something beyond anything they had encountered before. But that's not all! I've been researching the protheans for over fifty years, and while I still don't understand the method of their extinction–"

Shepard held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa. Hang on. Fifty years? How old are you?"

Liara flushed again. "I'm only one hundred and six. Too young for most people to take seriously but I assure you–"

He chuckled softly. "Sorry, doctor. It's just…humans have a little different perception than asari when it comes to age."

"Of course," she said, covering her eyes in embarrassment. "I'm such an idiot. I didn't think about–"

"Hey," he said. She felt his hand close over hers, gently pull it away from her face. Against the chill of the med bay his touch was surprisingly warm. "Relax. It's ok. I didn't mean anything by it. You just…definitely don't look anything like my idea of a hundred years old."

If she'd been flushed before, her skin was positively violet now. "Please. Call me Liara."

He leaned back again, smiling. "Ok. Liara. Sorry I interrupted."

"Um."

"You were saying something about their extinction?"

"Right! Um. I think…I don't know what killed them, exactly. But whatever it was, I don't think the protheans were the first."

The smile vanished abruptly from Shepard's face, and she could have sworn his tawny skin turned nearly ashen right before her eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What do you mean?"

"I think," she said, choosing her words carefully now, afraid of their effect, "that there were other cultures before them. Galaxy spanning, spacefaring cultures. All rising to a similar level of prominence as the protheans, all systematically wiped out. A cycle of extinction, if you will."

He said nothing for a long time. She shifted on the bed, anxiously wondering what was running through his head.

"What makes you think this?" he said at last.

She shrugged. "Little things. I've been studying the protheans for a long time. There are certain pieces of the puzzle I've found that don't fit – like they belong to someone else's puzzle! I can't prove it. But I'm certain I'm right." _And the implications have made for more than a couple sleepless nights,_ she added silently.

Shepard's gaze wandered, and the weariness that she's noticed earlier seemed more pronounced. His shoulders slumped, his eyes, so vibrant before, had a duller sheen. "You're more right than you know," he murmured.

A cold chill glazed her spine, and she shivered. "What do you mean?"

That's when he told her about the beacon. Saren. _Benezia._

The reapers.

Liara's mind buzzed. It was too much to take in. Dizziness struck and the edges of her vision grew black. She felt his hands against her shoulders again, easing her back down. "Time to rest," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown all that at you. I'll get Dr. Chakwas and leave you be for a while."

For a moment she wanted to reach out and grab him by the arm. _No, please stay with me_. He was a stranger, but on a ship full of strangers her only friend, and in the wake of what she'd just learned the thought of being alone was more terrifying than being back in that bubble on Therum.

She heard the doors slide open. The sound of a female voice. A demure woman with silver hair and cool hands pressed a dermal injector against her neck. There was a nip against her skin followed by a hiss as the contents of the injector flooded her body. Her muscles, coiled tight as a spring, begin to slowly unwind. She fought the onrush of sleep, trying to focus on Shepard. Her entire world had just been turned upside down and he was the only link. Once he walked out the door she was afraid he'd be lost. Or she would be.

_(We need your help to find something. Something important.)_

_Mother, why?_

She slept.

* * *

Shepard sat at the long table in the mess, idly stirring another cup of coffee, thoughts still dwelling on the asari in the med bay. _I shouldn't have dumped all that on her. Not all at once. Not in her state._ She was a civilian and he'd treated her like a soldier, interrogating her right there in her hospital bed.

He flicked at a crumb on the tabletop. It was getting late. Third shift was tumbling out of the sleeper pods and getting ready to take over their duty stations. There was an excited buzz as they gossiped in low voices about what had transpired on Therum.

Alenko was tinkering in the galley, stirring something in a saucepan. Private Greico had already complained about the Lieutenant's after hours kitchen raids. Shepard had told him it was par for the course with a biotic on board, and to just get used to it. Shepard had learned firsthand that Alenko could out eat a krogan after a demanding biotic display.

When he was finished he dumped the contents of the skillet into a bowl and headed for the table. The smell of garlic reached Shepard before Alenko did, and his stomach rumbled. He didn't know the last time he'd eaten.

Another of the biotic's weird talents was that he was a surprisingly good cook, and about the only person Shepard knew who could make reconstituted rations take like real food. When Alenko took a seat Shepard reached out and snatched his fork.

"By all means, help yourself," Alenko said dryly.

"Mmpf," Shepard replied. It was pasta, with a tomato based sauce that actually tasted like tomatoes. "Going to fire the cook and put you in charge. Hope you know that." He offered Kaidan back the fork. The LT waved him off, then pointedly held up a second one. Shepard saw it as an invitation to go for a second bite, and did. It only occurred to Shepard later that Kaidan might have fixed it just to ensure his commander ate.

Kaidan prodded the bowl with his backup fork. "Joker says your first call from the Council went, uh, well."

"Figured he was listening," Shepard said, getting to his feet and heading to the mess counter in search of something to drink. "Yeah, they weren't…thrilled that I destroyed the ruins and brought the daughter of our enemy on board." He came back with two bottles of water, which he held outward in an elaborate shrug. "You know me. I leave a trail of destruction everywhere I go." He set one of the bottles down in front of Kaidan and reclaimed his seat. "Udina thinks I'm turning the _Normandy_ into a safari tour."

"I'd like to see how we get off Therum without them," Kaidan said, twirling a wad of paste onto his fork.

Shepard shook his head. "You really don't care that I packed this ship with aliens, do you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"No…"

"But you think I would, because of BAaTT."

Shepard toyed with a napkin. "You never said what happened and I didn't ask. But from the sounds of it, whatshisname – "

"Vyrnnus," Kaidan supplied, focusing intently on his pasta bowl.

"Right. I don't get the sense he gave a great first impression of the turians."

He shrugged. "He was just one turian."

Shepard recalled their conversation in Flux. "Jerks and saints, huh?"

"Jerks and saints," Kaidan affirmed. "Brain Camp was full of them."

"What the hell is Brain Camp?"

They both turned to see Joker hobbling towards them. Shepard nudged a chair out for him with his foot.

"Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training," Kaidan said as Joker lowered himself into the chair with a grimace. The braces on his legs creaked as he twisted around to lean his crutches against the wall behind them. "BAaTT."

"How clever," Joker demured. "That where they teach you to work the bad guy like a puppet on a string before ripping their face off with your mind?"

"Not sure I've heard it put quite so eloquently before."

"Getcha something?" Shepard offered.

"I brought cards," Joker said bluntly, digging a beat up deck out of his pocket and tossing it on the table. "Pressly, Adams and Williams are on their way."

Shepard leaned back in his chair. "I'm impressed, Joker. You're seeking out our company?"

"Screw your company. I'm after your credits. And it was Alenko's idea."

Kaidan chuckled. "You know gambling's against regs, right?"

Joker scoffed. "You said bring cards. I don't play for imaginary riches. Shepard's a Spectre now. I see that as a free pass. Let it rain."

Shepard turned a questioning glance to Kaidan, who shrugged. "Thought playing a few hands would be a good way to blow off steam."

Adams and Pressly showed up a few moments later, deep in conversation about propulsion maintenance. Adams paused by the table while Pressly kept going over to the galley, where he rummaged through cabinets until he found a bottle of whisky and brought it back to the table. Adams stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck until something popped, then sat with a grateful sigh.

"Long day?" Shepard asked.

"Twelve hours on my feet implementing the performance upgrades Tali came up with." He shook his head. "She's one hell of an engineer, Commander."

"Tell me about it," Shepard replied, thinking of the smoking ruin on Therum.

Kaidan picked up the deck and casually began to shuffle the cards. Shepard smirked to himself. Joker had bought Kaidan's innocent "let's blow off steam" excuse, but Shepard knew better. He was willing to bet every single person at this table would peg Kaidan for a sucker, and every single one of them would owe him by the end of the night.

Adams looked around. "Anyone seen Karin?"

Joker made a face. "Who the hell is Karin?"

"Dr. _Chakwas_."

"She has a first name? Hey, you do learn something new every day."

"She's still with Liara," Kaidan said. "Came to get something to eat a little while ago."

Williams appeared from behind the elevator bulkhead. Shepard saw smudges of grease on her hands and guessed she'd been down in the armory cleaning rifles. He made a mental note to put in a requisition order for a new sniper. Apparently hers was still on Therum, buried somewhere under a pile of rubble.

"Sit down, Chief," Joker called with a lazy wave. "Or find us some chips. The kind you eat, not the kind you win from Kaidan."

Kaidan said nothing, and Shepard coughed to hide his laughter.

Ashley sat without a word, eying the cards while looking inexplicably uncomfortable. Her eyes kept darting around as though she expected something to explode. Shepard watched her out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. "What's the game?" she asked.

"Whatever everyone wants," Kaidan said amiably. Because it didn't _matter._ Biotic bastard.

"Not Skyllian Five," she said quickly.

"Why not?" Pressly asked.

She grimaced, fingers drumming nervously on the table. "How about five card draw?"

"You got it, Chief," Alenko said easily, and began to deal. A flick of his eyes back in William's direction told Shepard he'd picked up on her discomfort, too, but at the slightest shake of Shepard's head he kept his mouth shut.

Pressly passed the glasses around, then scooped up his hand and scrutinized it carefully. "Any word from our intrepid prothean scientist?"

Shepard's thoughts flew from Ashley back to Liara T'Soni, and he nearly knocked over his glass. "Spoke to her a little while ago," he managed. "Dr. Chakwas still has her on R&R, but she looks a lot better than she did when we found her." He felt another stab of guilt.

"I love that we're just totally ok with the daughter of Saren's bosom buddy slumming it here on the ship," Ashley said, glaring at her cards as though they had personally insulted her.

"_Bosom _buddy?" Joker said with a snort. "Really?"

"Have you seen what she looks like?" Ashley demanded. "I think the term's appropriate."

"Dr. T'Soni is a guest on this ship," Shepard said, quietly but in a tone that left no room for argument. "Everyone will treat her as such. I'm getting enough blowback from the Council. Don't need it from any of you." He raised his eyes from his cards just long enough to make sure no one objected. No one did.

"Next time the Council gives you shit, just say the word and I'll conveniently drop the signal," Joker said.

"I'll keep that in mind."

They played the hand, resulting in a surprise victory by Adams. Shepard caught Kaidan's eye, but the lieutenant's expression was purposefully blank.

Pressly dealt next. Ashley held her cards like pieces of broken glass. Shepard kept his eyes on his hand – Pressly had given him nothing – but kept watch on the gunnery chief. She was otherwise doing a good job of masking her discomfort, but Shepard had been there too many times before to be fooled.

Adams was grinning in response to some remark from Pressly. "The geth never knew we were there," Adams said, the combination of the whiskey and the hard-won pile of credits before him making him almost gleeful. "The IES worked perfectly. Drop ship sitting right there in orbit, never _even_ saw us. Same on Eden Prime!"

Ashley flinched ever so slightly, but only Shepard saw.

"Sorry," Joker droned, tossing a card on the table. "I was way more impressed by the pilot who literally dragged his commanding officer out of a river of _lava_."

"Didn't see you down there taking fire from a geth armature," Ashley fired back. "In fact as I recall, when I called for help you turned me down."

Joker rolled his eyes. "Did I mention the lava? You know that's bad for hulls, right? Lava? But don't worry. You've got me. And the _Normandy _is a beautiful young lady with the sexiest drive core in the fleet."

"I'll drink to that," Pressly said, holding up an empty glass and looking pointedly at the bottle sitting in front of Joker. Joker took a swig from it and passed it on, much to Pressly's distaste. "Does Vrolik's syndrome excuse you from drinking out of a glass?"

Joker merely grinned. Pressly poured anyway.

Shepard won the second hand, but by that time Kaidan had finished scouting and was now on the hunt. He reined in his bet.

"So what's next, Commander?" Pressly asked.

"Still waiting for a lead," Shepard replied. "Hopefully Liara can help us track down Benezia. Until then Admiral Hackett has a few things he'd like us to investigate."

Kaidan whistled. "Admiral Hackett? Wow, sign on with a Spectre and suddenly you're dealing with top brass. What does he need?"

"Something about a missing probe that turned up in the Voyager Cluster," Shepard mused, picking up the next hand and fanning the cards. "It's classified, sensitive. Wants us to go get it."

"He wants a Spectre to fetch a probe?" Joker asked. "Sounds like a waste of time."

Shepard agreed, but had a feeling it wasn't. He thought back to his last conversation with Anderson. _Do you know how many commanders Admiral Hackett keeps tabs on? One. You._

The third hand went to Kaidan, then the fourth. By the fifth the others were catching on.

"Where the hell did you learn how to play poker?" Pressly demanded.

"Jump Zero," Kaidan replied. "When you and a bunch of kids are herded out to the middle of nowhere with no extranet and too much time on your hands, you find ways to amuse yourselves."

"I can think of a lot better ways than _cards_," Joker said.

Shepard smiled, his eyes on his hand but his mind beginning to drift. The sheer pleasantness of being surrounded by people having a good time was a welcome diversion from the past few days. Funny how you didn't realize how much stress you were under until you found a seam to let some of it out. He listened to the others laugh. Earlier in the night it had been cautious, but now had become heartfelt and open.

It made him feel a little bad for how he was about to end the evening.

"Too bad Dr. Chakwas isn't here," Adams said regretfully. "She would have enjoyed this."

Shepard laid down his cards. "Anyone mention this to Garrus or Tali? Wrex?"

He was, not unexpectedly, met with immediate, uncomfortable silence.

Shepard met their downcast eyes, then stood. He'd gotten the point across. No need to push it any further. "Thanks for the games, everyone. Feel free to keep playing. We'll do it again soon."

He left quickly to end their embarrassment. Part of him regretted doing it to them in the first place, but in the long run he thought it would help. If they were going to act like a team, they needed to think like one. Therum had been a successful experiment, but there would be tougher, longer roads ahead.

* * *

A few hours later the _Normandy _was firmly entrenched in third shift and Ashley shuffled back down to the cargo hold, unable to sleep and not sure what to do with herself. She looked at the rack of clean rifles on the weapons bench beside the lockers, careful to avoid the crate with Jenkin's belongings in it. The _Normandy_ hadn't left it off at the Citadel like she expected, making her wonder if they had other plans or had just plain forgotten about it.

A loud snore nearly sent her leaping out of her own skin. She'd nearly forgotten about the krogan bunking down here. Apparently he didn't have trouble sleeping.

She splayed her hands on the weapon's bench, sighing a little. Well. She could always clean the shotguns. Clean guns were something she took a lot of pride in.

Back in Basic she'd told her drill instructor once that her gun was clean enough to eat off of, so he'd promptly made her prove it. She'd hadn't hesitated to do exactly that, then spent the next hour cleaning it again. But instead of grabbing a shotgun she sank down in front of the lockers and put her head in her hands. That stupid card game. Why the hell did it matter at all? How did something like poker suddenly make her feel like the air was too heavy to even get a deep breath?

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and just sat in silence, until she heard the clunk of someone settling down inelegantly next to her. This time she didn't jump though. She'd almost been expecting it. Bright spots danced in front of her eyes when she took away her hands. As she suspected, Shepard was seated next to her, staring sagely over at the Mako with his knees propped up in front of him.

"I cannot wait to use that thing," Shepard said.

Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that was not it. She raised an eyebrow.

"I've driven Grizzlies," Shepard went on. "But this thing is lighter, faster, and if the specs are right it'll take one hell of a beating and still get the job done. I'm going to make it dance."

"I thought you don't dance."

"I make an exception for tanks."

Ashley smiled a little. Alenko had mentioned something about Shepard's driving skill, or lack thereof, but for once the trap door between her brain and her mouth stayed shut.

"You were playing Skyllian Five when the dreadnaught showed up, weren't you?" Shepard said after a comfortable silence.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. Saw the thing that wasn't Bourdelle shambling towards her with its groping fingers. Remembered the hardsuit transponders on her scanner winking out one by one.

She nodded, staring down at the neon green laces of the boots she'd bought on the Citadel.

"For me it was oatmeal," Shepard went on, his tone remaining conversational. "The last thing I ate before Torfan was a bowl of oatmeal, and to this day if I so much as smell it I'm back in some cave with a Batarian gauntlet coming at my face." He shifted his back against the lockers, searching for a comfortable spot. "Don't know why, but it seems like food is what always triggers memories like that for me. Ruins a lot of good meals."

Ashley chuckled softly in spite of herself, but sobered quickly. Shepard must have sensed she wanted to say something, waited for her to figure out what. She wiggled her toes, watching the laces flop. Stupid boots. She'd never have needed to buy them if they'd been prepared. If she'd been faster. _Better._ If she'd –

"I shot Bourdelle," she said suddenly. "Blew his head off. But not before he got McIllheney. I just…I mean, I know it wasn't him. Not anymore. But when he ran up that hill at us I actually _reached_ for him. Like I it was still him and I could…help. But instead he grabbed McIllheney…" Her breath hitched.

"It wasn't your fault," Shepard insisted.

She leaned her head back with a gentle thunk and closed her eyes. "When people told you that, did you believe them?"

He thought for a moment. "Eventually. It takes time, Ashley. But it happens. If you try." She caught a hint of something in his voice that she couldn't identify.

"And until then?"

"You lean on your crewmates. Fight hard. Help me bring Saren to justice."

She nodded at her hands. "I can do that."

"I know you can."

He gestured out into the cargo bay. "Be careful of places like this. You tuck yourself away alone in the dark like this at first just to get a few minutes to breathe. But those few minutes will start to stretch out. Before you know it you've forgotten the way out."

Shepard's voice rang with painful experience. Again Ashley wondered what had _really_ happened down on Torfan, or if that was even what he was referring to. She got the feeling maybe it wasn't.

"Yes, sir," she said softly.

He tilted his head towards her in an effort to catch her eye. "Don't worry. You'll do the Williams name proud. The past can only catch up to you if you refuse to keep moving forward."

Ashley turned towards him, startled. He _knew_.

Shepard got up. "In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

"A new hardsuit," she blurted out before she could stop herself. She forced herself to her feet, avoiding his expression. "I...sorry. I can't ask that. There's nothing wrong with mine. It's stupid."

But Shepard only nodded. "I understand. You need a new sniper anyway. Spectre status gives me more pull than I had before. I'll see what I can do. Come on." He gestured towards the elevator. "You need some sleep."

It wasn't until much later that Ashley wondered why Shepard was still up, and if she wasn't the only one on the _Normandy _who couldn't sleep.


	15. Chapter 15: Confluentem

Chapter 15 - Confluentem

Few in the Alliance could elicit the level of respect Admiral Steven Hackett demanded. The Fifth Fleet Commander's ascent from enlisted man was the stuff of legend, one that Shepard did not believe suffered from exaggeration. His heavily lined face had been among the first to see the space that waited beyond the Sol relay, and the jagged scar disrupting the perfect symmetry of the thick, grey hair dusting his chin had been earned in the First Contact War.

The pale, keen eyes gazing out from under a naval cap made it clear that after everything they had seen this occasion was merely a footnote. _This_ was the man that Anderson said kept tabs on him. The man partially responsible for making him a Spectre. Anderson and Udina had done all the shouting, but Shepard had the feeling that without the silent, stoic support of Admiral Hackett he would never have made it inside the Citadel Tower.

"Sir," Shepard said, standing a little straighter. "Your message said you had a mission for me. Something about a probe."

Hackett clasped his hands loosely behind his back. When he spoke his voice sounded like worn gravel. "It's an…uncomfortable matter. During the First Contact War we fired off a number of espionage probes into turian space. Most were recovered, but we lost contact with a few." He inhaled deeply through his nose. "One of those few just transmitted a 'mission complete' burst."

Shepard frowned. "Where has it been all this time?"

Hackett's expression did not change. "We don't know."

"Something tells me this is more than just a probe, or you wouldn't be calling me."

Hackett nodded once. "The probe has a built in demo nuke. During the First Contact War we didn't know what we were dealing with. We couldn't chance the turians getting their hands on our technology. If the wrong people find that probe, it's not going to go over well with the Council. And if someone finds it, tampers with it…" He let the thought hang.

Shepard ran a thumb over his chin. "I'm still not sure what makes me the man for this one. Lt. Alenko is the only one on board who's had any training with nukes or disarm codes. " Shepard paused, then understood. "You want the _Normandy_. We can use the stealth system to get in and out unnoticed."

Another nod.

Shepard wondered what would happen if he declined. Technically a Spectre's authority superseded the chain of command. But most Spectres worked alone, outside the military. Shepard was at the helm of an Alliance ship, with a – mostly – Alliance crew, which made the lines decidedly blurry.

Suddenly it occurred to him that Hackett might be testing him, wondering where Shepard thought his own loyalties lay. He straightened his arms at his sides, then offered a quick salute.

"Consider it done, sir."

The Admiral dipped his chin ever so slightly in response, but gave no other sign that Shepard's intuition had been right. "Thank you, Commander. Hackett out."

The viewscreen went blank, severed from the other end, filling the comm room with silence that hummed in his ears.

Shepard took a seat in one of the comm room's chairs and tapped his fingers against the armrest. Weariness tugged at him from every angle but he was still restless, the visions from the beacon driving him with relentless urgency he couldn't seem to tamp down. He'd thought about asking Dr. Chakwas for a sleep aid, but that would require admitting he needed it. While he trusted her adherence to doctor/patient confidentiality, he wasn't prepared to reveal that her new commander might already be fraying at the edges.

Beyond Therum there had been no plan. Saren had gone to ground, out of sight and out of reach, free to continue his pursuit of the conduit. Unless Liara could point them in the right direction he would be forced to sit and wait for a lead, something he didn't particularly excel at. He needed to do something. Might as well go fetch a probe.

"Joker," he said, the sound of his voice echoing faintly in the empty room. "Set a course for the Voyager Cluster. Engage the stealth system once we reach Amazon."

"_Aye, sir."_

He stood up slowly, hearing the creak of too many joints in the process. At least there was one thing he could look forward to. If they were going on a recon mission planet side, it meant he'd finally get to test the Mako.

Shepard was only mildly surprised to find Alenko leaning casually against the wall outside the conference room. Shepard wondered how long he had been waiting.

"It was a test, wasn't it?" he asked, falling into step beside his CO.

"What was?" Shepard asked, skirting the steps to the galaxy map podium on his way to the stairs. He overheard Pressly griping about a miscalculation he'd discovered on one of the starcharts as they passed by. Some poor serviceman stood meekly before him, trying to bravely shoulder the tirade.

"Last night," Alenko persisted. "The poker game. It was a test."

Shepard smiled to himself. It had been eating Kaidan alive all night, he had no doubt. "Pretty sure it was your idea, not mine."

"Yeah, but…"

"Not a test," he assured him. "Just a question." He moved purposefully down the steps, hand gliding over the handrail. Alenko trailed him a bit more reluctantly.

"Yeah, well it didn't even occur to me," he muttered. "I never once thought about asking Garrus or Tali to join us."

Shepard hit the bottom of the steps, waited for to catch up and clapped him on the back. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Alenko. I wasn't passing judgment. Just offering something to think about." He pulled a datapad containing the mission parameters out of his pocket and handed it over. Kaidan accepted it warily.

"What's this?"

"You and I are going probe hunting."

The LT raised an eyebrow. "That sounds exhilarating."

Shepard grinned. "In the Mako."

Alenko's eyes widened a little. "Ah, I'm sure Chief Williams would love a shot at this one, sir."

"Nope. I need someone with disarm codes."

"_Disarm_ codes? What kind of probe is this?"

"The kind no one is supposed to know about."

"Ah. That kind."

"Better read up, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," he said with a sigh.

Shepard started towards his quarters, then paused. "Have you seen the Chief? I wanted to run some specs by her for a new sniper rifle." _And hardsuit_, he added silently. But that one he was keeping to himself.

Alenko's expression contorted slightly. "Uhh, cargo bay? She said something about sparring."

_Sparring_, Shepard wondered. With who?

* * *

Wrex scented the human female the moment she stepped off the elevator. The cloying smell of alkaline, glycerol and phenols radiated from her pale flesh, hitting his nostrils all the way across the cargo bay. The first two were undoubtedly the result of humanity's apparent obsession with constantly cleansing themselves, the latter from the noxious stimulant beverage she consumed regularly. He did not look up to confirm his guess. Instead he kept his focus on the open diagnostic panel on his armor and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

The only thing in his mind that set her apart from the others was that she was not outwardly intimidated by him, a trait that only Shepard shared. No other human voluntarily spent any time in the cargo bay. Aside from that, there was little about her or any of the others on board that interested him. He wasn't here for them. He wasn't even really here for Shepard, though Wrex was forced to admit that this human commander was far more than he'd first expected.

The female did not go to the weapon's locker like usual. Instead she approached him with narrowed eyes and a set jaw, arms folded across her chest. Wrex eyed her impassively.

"What do you want, human?"

"Commander Shepard wants us to mingle a little with the new crewmembers, _krogan,_" she shot back. "So here I am."

Wrex straightened to his full height. She did not flinch. Most of the humans on this ship would prefer to use words against an enemy, even as that enemy drove a blade into their chests. This one was willing to use her fists. She was _krant_ to Shepard, and maybe even worthy of it, unlike that other whelp, the one called Alenko. That one was soft, still believing that the galaxy held uncompromising integrity in higher regard than the more sordid alternatives. Shepard, Wrex sensed, did not. This one might not either.

It mattered little to him. He had seen warriors rise and fall for the same reasons over the course of centuries, each one longer than the last. She was just another face he would forget.

"The turian and his quarian pet are on the crew deck," he told her. "Go find them if you want conversation."

One of the thin strips of hair resting over her eyes formed an arch. "If I wanted to talk to them, that's what I'd be doing right now."

There was a note of anger in her voice that amused him.

"You hate the turians," she grumbled when he did not respond. "Why should I be so ready to jump into bed with them? The First Contact war was a lot more recent than the Rebellions."

Wrex's scales tightened, and his lip curled away from his teeth. "You think time makes a difference?"

She gestured with one hand. "You aren't the only ones they tried to wipe out."

"It's not the same," he snapped.

"Sounds the same to me."

The hatred that lay mostly dormant these days flared to light in Wrex's chest with sudden, intolerable rancor. His fingers clenched at his sides, voice dropping dangerously low. "So humans were infected with a genetic virus that renders all but one in a thousand females sterile? And that virus has destroyed your entire species?"

The bravado she had held onto so tightly since entering the cargo bay faltered. Her stance shifted, easing enough that had Wrex wanted to attack, her reaction would have been too slow to counter. He did not think it was a mistake Shepard would have made.

"Ok maybe it's not the same," she said, tone subdued. "I didn't mean to…um."

He waved her off with an irritated toss of his arm. The only thing more useless than ignorance was pity. He stooped back over the diagnostic panel of his armor, assuming their conversation was finished.

The truth was, while the genophage had certainly crippled the krogan it was not what was killing them. They were taking care of that themselves. The genophage had set them adrift. With no strength to unite behind and no future ahead of them, they had nothing to fight for but themselves. It made them meager. Made them _small. _Long ago Wrex had tried to force them to remember what had once made them great. Retreat within their own borders, focus on breeding, tear down the fate the turians had handed them and reforge their own. But those attempts had ended one dry, hot morning at the Hallows in a river of blood.

Whether they had known it or not, when the salarians developed the genophage they were attacking more than just physiology. They had found a way to use the krogan's own nature to let them defeat themselves.

Williams had not left.

"If it's that bad, why are you here? Why be a mercenary?" she pressed. "You're a battlemaster. That's a big deal, isn't it? Why aren't you on Tuchanka trying to help your people cure the genophage?"

He uttered a derisive snort. "Cure the genophage. When is the last time you met a krogan scientist?"

"Yeah, but—"

"What does it matter?" he interrupted.

"Hey," she said, holding her hands up. "If you don't care, I sure as hell don't care. But if I'm supposed to trust you with my six, it would be nice to know what the hell you're doing here."

Wrex rose once more, taking a few steps closer until his face was inches from hers. "The krogan are warriors," he said with a sneer. "We like the fight, and Shepard is in the middle of one of the greatest fights of our time, the likes of which haven't been seen since the Rebellions. Since the Rachni. I came for that."

"Fair enough," she said with a slow exhale.

"Are we done?" he asked.

He could sense the muscles in her body tense, her blood run a little hotter. The familiar tang of fear threaded his nostrils, made all the more intense by the hard running air circulators working to combat the heat stored in the hull.

"No."

At last, they had reached the real reason for her visit. He waited.

"I want you to teach me," she said finally.

Wrex narrowed his eyes. "Teach you what."

"Teach me to be a battlemaster."

He guffawed, the sound enough to reverberate off the deckplates. "You don't have the strength or the bone density to spar with me. Not to mention the lifespan to learn."

"You've had centuries of combat training," she argued. "Surely you can show me a trick or two."

He considered this. Humans were more fragile than the turians and tended to be less disciplined, but in some ways Wrex tended to think they were bolder, more brash. They had too much pride to back down from fights that they couldn't win, and Wrex found that at least to be something they had in common.

A human fighting like a krogan. _That_ was something Saren would never see coming.

* * *

Shepard, Alenko, Tali and Garrus all turned to stare when Ashley limped to the mess a few hours later. The four of them were sitting at the table, going through a stack of datapads.

Alenko reacted first. "Jesus, Ashley. What happened?" He scrambled to his feet, scattering datapads with a careless swipe of his hand, no doubt intending to escort her straight to the med bay. She waved him off.

"It's nothing," she said, which judging by their expressions was an outright lie. She hadn't seen a mirror yet, but she could already feel the bruises blooming on her skin and was downright positive she had a shiner brewing around her right eye. Sweat dripped off her face, staining her uniform. She was out of breath and thought she might have screwed up most, if not all, of the ligaments in her knee. She grimaced as she took a seat beside Shepard and across from Garrus. Every one of them gaped at her in silence. Next to Garrus, Tali shifted a little uneasily. Ashley of course could not see her face, but there was a sense of bewilderment about the quarian that Ashley found incredibly satisfying.

On Shepard's left Alenko was still half standing, half sitting, ready for her to change her mind about his assistance.

Ashley glanced up at Sargent Greico, the mess officer who was also staring at her from behind the galley. "Can I get a glass of water or something?"

He brought her a pitcher, along with a shot of something that came from an unlabeled bottle. She supposed either he wasn't too sore about the raid on his liquor cabinet last night, or she just looked _that_ bad. She drained the pitcher without bothering to use a glass, then downed the shot.

"So," Shepard asked after a long silence. "How are things?"

"Peachy," she replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She wondered how long they could last before they couldn't take it anymore. The optics in Garrus's visor flashed, probably evaluating her vitals.

"Did Shepard take you out in the Mako?" Alenko asked, which earned him a dirty look from their commander.

She shook her head. A bead of sweat slid off her nose and dripped onto the table. Without a word Tali offered her a napkin. Ashley took it with a mumbled thanks, dipped it into the pitcher, mopped the table and then stuck the napkin on the back of her neck, sighing a little as the cool dampness made her skin tingle.

"Spit it out, Chief," Shepard said sternly.

"Wrex is teaching me a few things," she replied.

"What," Garrus said, "like how to stop projectiles with your face?"

She finished off the pitcher in response. Greico approached them with another one.

"This is the first human ship I've been on," Tali said slowly, head canted slightly, "but is it safe to say this is…unusual?"

"Oh yeah, very safe," Alenko replied, finally sitting fully back in his seat. "Ash, are you sure you don't need Dr. Chakwas?"

She wiped her mouth and shook her head. "Nope. Just a long, hot shower. The hottest of showers. And maybe a really big bucket of ice. Think they make ice suits rather than just ice packs?"

"I'll ask the doc," Shepard replied with a straight face.

"Great. See you guys a little later. If you hear a big thud in the shower, don't worry about it."

Every eye was still on her as she got up and hobbled her way out.

* * *

Alenko glanced at Shepard after their stunned silence wore off. "Did she really ask a krogan for combat lessons?"

"Apparently," Shepard said, still staring even though she was out of sight. Suddenly he turned to Alenko. "And you have no idea how I'd handle the Mako, by the way."

"Yeah, but I know how you handle the Grizzly."

"Blow it out your ass, Alenko."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Once the others had left Shepard remained at the table, sipping a cup of lukewarm coffee with a grimace. His gunnery chief was wrestling with a krogan, his engineer was collaborating with a quarian on core efficiency and the litter of datapads Garrus had left behind all had to do with turian calibration techniques for GARDIAN lasers. On other Alliance ships it would have seemed like the twilight zone, but here on the _Normandy_ it was quickly becoming the average Monday.

He tapped the datapad with the mission specs Hackett had sent him against the table. Chances were he'd get more done going over them in his quarters, but the silence in there was too thick, too uncomfortable. He preferred the ambient noise out here.

As bizarre as the current crew makeup seemed, the pieces had so far fit together better than he had expected. With the exception of one.

His eyes drifted over to the med bay door.

What the hell was he going to do with Liara T'Soni? She didn't know what the conduit was or why Saren wanted it. She wasn't a soldier. But that didn't change the fact that Saren had sent the geth after her. The safest place for her was on the _Normandy_, but what was she supposed to do here? Research the conduit? Cold as it sounded, there wasn't room for someone who couldn't pull their weight.

And to be honest, he couldn't be entirely sure that she even wanted to help them. The crew had been casting wary glances in the direction of the med bay whenever they passed. They didn't trust her. He supposed for the time being there wasn't a reason to.

He turned his focus back to the datapad. Sipped his coffee again. Grimaced again. He needed a fresh cup, but the pot was empty and the last time Shepard tried to brew his own he'd nearly set the galley on fire. _Everything is a weapon to you, Shepard_, Stevens had once told him. His old N7 drill sergeant would just love to know he'd found a way to weaponize cookware.

"Shepard?"

He jumped at the sound of Liara's voice, losing his grip on the mug and spilling the contents all over the data pad, which hissed in protest. How the _hell _had she snuck up on him?

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, reaching to set the mug upright and rescue the datapad as Shepard scrambled for some napkins. "I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't…"

"It's fine," he assured her, mopping up the worst of the spill before it dribbled all over the floor. "Believe me, the coffee was terrible anyway." He glanced over at her fretful face, his momentary irritation ebbing at the sight of her so much more alert. Free from the dust of Therum and the harsh light of the med bay, it was like seeing her for the first time.

There was a lot to see.

The asari were notorious for their ability to attract nearly every known species in the galaxy, from turian to krogan to even the hanar. At first glance Liara was no exception, but there was something…open about her, simpler, that wasn't such a common trait. Though she clearly possessed the inherent wisdom and beauty of her people, unlike most asari, Shepard didn't think she realized it.

. She was wearing a green jumpsuit with a white collar and one white sleeve – maybe the same thing she'd been wearing on Therum, Shepard couldn't remember. Her blue skin was bare of the facial tattoos so many asari favored save for a small painted arch over each eye, slightly reminiscent of human eyebrows. It made her seem young, which he supposed she _was,_ even though it was hard to think of someone a hundred years old as such_._ Unlike the sharp, streamlined skull crest of the turians, hers was thicker, curving gently as it rolled over her head like a wave. She had no visible ears, just a small juncture on the sides of her skull where the ridged skin of her neck joined the sweeping crest. She had freckles. Shepard didn't know asari had freckles.

"It's good to see you up and about," he told her. "Feeling better?"

"Yes – much. Thank you. Dr. Chakwas is a very impressive physician." She nervously held up the datapad, whose screen now sported clusters of distorted pixels. He took it with a dismissive wave.

"It's fine. Alenko has a copy anyway." He refrained from mentioning the classified nature of the data that had been on it.

"Something you need?" he prompted.

She clasped her hands nervously in front of her. "Yes. Um. I was hoping to speak with you. When you had a moment."

"Now's as good a time as any," he said, and gestured for her to take a seat across from him. As she did Shepard noticed a coffee stain on his shirt. He shifted his arm in front of him in an attempt to cover it.

"I'm sorry about my…reaction before," she said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he told her. "It was my fault. Too much to lay on you at once, especially when you weren't up and about yet."

"I wanted to know," she said simply.

He scrutinized her carefully. Despite her marked improvement something about her eyes troubled him, a worn, dazed look that hadn't gone away with rest. "How are you really?"

She sighed, dropping her hands into her lap. "A little overwhelmed, to be honest. I've been on my own for months only to be rescued from the geth by someone who tells me my mother is a traitor and my life's work may very well be obsolete."

The last part took him by surprise. How had…then it hit him. The reapers. One nightmare had solved the mystery Liara had spent a lifetime trying to uncover. "I'm sorry," Shepard he said. "In retrospect…that was even more than I thought I was throwing at you."

She looked down at the table, idly tracing a finger through small beads of condensation left behind from Ashley's pitcher. "I never imagined Benezia could be involved with something…" She shook her head.

"Do you know anything about her association with Saren?" he prodded gently, knowing it wasn't the right time but unable to put it off. "Did you know him through your mother at all?"

She shifted her gaze back to him, looking incredibly lost and forlorn. He stirred in his seat.

"No," she said at last. "I had never heard of him before you found me on Therum. All I know about him is what I learned from some information Dr. Chakwas put together for me. I've never even met a Spectre…until now." She gave Shepard a long, conflicted look. Just like him, he was positive her decision to trust him came from her gut, even though her head was probably urging her to be cautious. He had no doubt she'd been reading up on more than just Saren.

"Is there anything politically that might have motivated her to join Saren?" he asked.

"Not that I know of." She sighed in frustration, propping her elbows on the table and resting her forehead in her hands. "She's not a bad person, Commander. I don't understand any of this."

He hesitated to ask the question he needed to ask, for fear that he might not get the answer he wanted – needed. But then she surprised him.

"You want me to help you find her, don't you?" Her tone was listless, sad, but somehow resigned. He hated that it brought him a small sense of relief to hear.

He leaned toward her. "I know it's not an easy thing to ask. But if Saren really wants to bring the reapers back, you know better than anyone what that could mean. We have to stop him…by any means necessary."

She did not answer at first, picking her head up and allowing her gaze to drift around the mess. Two crew members were chatting over by the lockers, occasionally glancing in their direction. Shepard had no doubt she was aware of them and what they were probably whispering about.

After a moment she turned her eyes, a deeper blue than that of her skin, back to Shepard. "You touched a prothean beacon," she said softly. "Communicated with it. Do you know what I would give to see what you saw?"

He straightened his shoulders uncomfortably. "You wouldn't want to," he said at last. "Not if you ever wanted to sleep again." The admission was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He held his breath.

"I know a few of her contacts back on Thessia," Liara said at last. "I'll get in touch with them and see what I can find. I just have one request."

"Yes?"

She folded her hands. "When we find her, I want to go with you."

Shepard tilted his head. "When we find her I doubt it will be free of resistance," he said hesitantly. "You're a scientist, not a soldier."

Her expression darkened a little. "I know how to take care of myself."

Dr. Chakwas had mentioned she'd run some tests on a biotic amp when she'd been brought on board, a Serrice Council model that had made Alenko wilt with jealousy. Asari were natural biotics, with more raw power than humans had ever been able to harness. But raw power didn't mean you knew how to use it.

"It's not just about taking care of yourself," Shepard insisted. "It's also about the person standing next to you. And it's not always defensive."

The bereft, despondent air about her vanished abruptly, replaced by something stern and hard that bore an uncanny resemblance to the images of her mother he'd seen in her file. "I may not be the daughter Benezia envisioned," she said, and he wondered what she meant by it, "but that doesn't change the fact I _am_ her daughter. That meant spending my childhood training my biotics with asari commandos. I'm young, Commander, but when most asari my age were dancing and stripping in clubs, I was learning how to kill with my mind. I've been on my own for a long time. The geth were not the first to give me trouble."

Shepard opened his mouth to respond, but she did not give him a chance. "Besides, you might need me. She has no reason to listen to you. You're a Spectre, but she's an asari matriarch, nearly a thousand years old. Nothing you say will interest her. But she might listen to me."

He remained silent, tapping his thumb against his lap. The last thing he had expected from the meek, distressed scientist they'd picked up on Therum was the grim woman who now sat before him.

"Alenko and I are going after an errant probe in the Voyager cluster," he said at last. "We should be there in a few hours. Suit up and meet us in the cargo hold. Don't think it'll be very exciting, but it might give us a chance to see what you've got."

Liara's eyes lit up. "Of course. I'll be there." She stood hastily.

Shepard pointed towards the elevator. "Check with Sergeant Barrett. He's the requisitions officer. He'll dig up some light armor for you. Have any training with a pistol?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good. I'll have him set you up with a Kessler."

"You won't regret this, Commander," she said, flush with determination. He couldn't help but smile as she made her way to the cargo elevator.

"No," he said softly. "Something tells me I don't think I will."


	16. Chapter 16: Antiquis Inimicus

**Chapter 16. Antiquis Inimicus **

Joker swiped at one of the haptic screens, keeping an eye on the Mako's transponder signal as it trudged closer to the probe marker Hackett had provided. Out the viewfinder he could see the hazy red hide of Agebinium turning slowly below them. _That_ planet had seen some shit. It was the closest planet to Amazon, a long-period variable star that sent out pummeling blasts of heat and radiation at the apex of each cycle. Every sixteen years Agebinum's atmosphere got a nice radiation bath, leaving little more than a thin layer of krypton and carbon dioxide behind for atmosphere. Joker didn't see why they didn't just leave the damn nuke where it was. Wasn't like it would make much of a difference to this dump if it went off.

In addition to the Mako's transponder he had pulled up the biofeeds of its three occupants, Shepard, Alenko and the asari. He'd had to ping a few com buoys for an upload to monitor asari biology, and just in case Shepard wasn't done adding to the _Normandy _freakshow Joker had gone ahead and picked up the data packets for salarian, volus, and for kicks, hanar physiology. He had no idea if there was any point in bringing a sexy scientist along on a mission to pick up a stray nuke, but it was worth it just to see the look on Ashley William's face. She'd almost had a stroke.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. It was an unmistakably turian sound.

"Garrus," Joker said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat and tossing his hand in the air. "What a wonderful surprise. I love company." He was able to swivel his chair just enough to see the turian's face plates contorted in what Joker thought resembled suspicion. One of the _Normandy's _few but significant design flaws was that his chair didn't swivel 360. For some reason they hadn't built her with cripples in mind.

"Did you get the specs I sent about the GARDIAN modifications I talked to Shepard about?" Garrus asked, gingerly folding himself into the empty seat beside the pilot._ Oh no, please, by all means. Make yourself comfortable_, Joker thought with exasperation.

Aloud, he said, "Yeah, I think my eyes glazed over by the third schematic. I don't get it. You're talking about some seriously complicated modifications for a negligible power boost. Even Adams seemed intimidated by some of this stuff, and I'm pretty sure he took his math book to prom."

Garrus's mandible quivered. "I…don't know what that means, but I think I get the gist. And yes, it's detailed work, but that half a percent could make more of an impact than you realize."

"Pretty sure half a percent isn't going to mean much against that giant dreadnaught. I mean, I know you missed that little encounter, but let me let you in on a little secret. Our GARDIAN laser isn't going to be anything but a punch line to that thing."

The turian actually seemed to deflate a little, a look that made Joker stifle a laugh. Something about the way the plates of his face shifted and almost _sagged_ struck him as absurd. "Okay, hey, whatever. Get Adams and Tali to do their part of it, and I'll work on the targeting parameter changes up here when I get a few minutes. I mean, I have to have _some_ time to sit around and browse the extranet."

Garrus' mandible quirked again – God, _every_ change in their expression was somehow linked to their mouths, which shouldn't seem that unusual but damn did it look weird – and he got back to his feet. "You're not like any pilot in the turian military."

"Amen to that. I mean, no offense. Alenko likes to tell me I'd get tossed out the airlock of most Alliance ships, too."

Garrus tilted his head speculatively. "You know that used to be an actual turian method of discipline?"

For once Joker was speechless. "Really?"

"No."

"Har, har," Joker said with a roll of his eyes. "Why don't you go find Tali and try that one on her?" Though it seemed entirely plausible that airlock tossing _was_ a quarian way of handling things. They ran around the galaxy with their homes packed on their back like a fleet of turtles. With space at a premium, hell, maybe the occasional airlock decompression solved more problems than it created.

"Let me know if you have any questions about those modifications," Garrus said before disappearing down the CIC corridor.

"Right, sure," Joker muttered. Garrus was going to be a pain in the ass, though granted maybe less of a pain in the ass than other turians.

Alone once more, he turned his attention back to the Mako's transponder as it inched closer to the target. He pictured what they might be seeing, the swirling red dust of a radioactive bleached planet, mountain peaks rearing up against the horizon, the bump and rattle of the tank's treads beneath them…for just a moment he was envious. But then he thought about the perils of gravity, the hassle of wearing a suit, and the frequency at which Shepard seemed to get shot at.

Nah, he preferred ships.

* * *

As the Mako rolled over Agebinium's uneven terrain Liara found herself frequently reaching for the loop anchored to the hull above and to the left of her seat, which Alenko referred to as an 'Oh Shit' handle. Shepard's withered expression told her he didn't exactly appreciate the descriptor, but the longer she was in the cab the more apt it seemed. Liara didn't think she'd ever seen someone so…zealous about driving a vehicle.

"This handles so much better than the Grizzly," Shepard said, and she could hear the grin in his voice from her seat behind him. Alenko, sitting in the front beside the Commander, merely grunted.

Shepard gunned the engine as they sped towards a narrow trench gouged in the barren surface. When they reached the precipice Liara grabbed the loop once more and stifled a shriek as Shepard engaged the thrusters and propelled them across. Her stomach dropped as the tank came back down, knuckles pale from gripping the handle. The Mako hit the ground, lurched, but kept right on rolling. Thank the Goddess this monstrosity had an eezo core.

"Was that necessary?" Alenko yelled.

"Wouldn't you rather know what she's capable of _before_ we're getting shot at?" Shepard replied.

Liara didn't say so but thought they had already established quite a startling number of the tank's capabilities. They had diverted twice already on their way to the probe to catalog a few mineral deposits the Mako's scanners had detected, and then once to salvage a crashed probe. At least it had meant getting out of the cramped confines of the tank for a few minutes.

She was still getting a feel for the armor Shepard had obtained for her, a light Predator suit with mottled green and brown hues. The helmet was a slightly awkward fit over her crest but it worked well enough. She found herself compulsively poking around in the mini-frame, displaying targeting data from her pistol, scanning the terrain…

She'd worn suits before, but mostly ones designed for environmental protection, not combat. _It's about the person standing next to you_, Shepard had said, something she felt acutely once she'd linked her suit to theirs and had their lifesigns displayed prominently in the lower left of her HUD. If something went wrong, the link they established would give her emergency access to their suit configurations. In the event they were incapacitated and unable to make changes, that access was designed to allow her to try and save their lives. She'd never had someone's life so literally placed in her hands before.

The pistol riding her hip was a fairly easy one to use, but Liara was forced to admit that though she'd been trained to use one it had been a while since she'd bothered. After going over some safety precautions and schooling her on marine protocol for away missions Shepard had set up a target in the cargo bay and watched her shoot. She'd thought she'd done all right, but one look at the commander's face told her otherwise, and when he'd picked up the pistol and fired three quick headshots in scarcely the time it took to breathe she realized he was right. Biotics were so second nature it didn't really occur to her to use a weapon. It wasn't until Therum that she realized what an error that was – maybe if she'd had her pistol things would not have gone so badly.

But then again, if she had, she might not be here right now. As draining and tumultuous as things had been for the last few days, all of the alternatives she could think of were worse. She'd forced thoughts of her mother, Saren and the reapers out of her head for now – it was too much to deal with – and instead focused on the figure sitting in front of her.

Shepard pulled the tank to a stop and began to fiddle with the targeting system on the cannon. "Find me a target, Alenko. I want to see what kind of firepower we've got here."

Alenko leaned forward to get a better look at his nav panel. "Those rocks at 51.5171° N, 0.1062° W look pretty vicious if you ask me."

"Yeah, well they just started some shit they can't finish."

Liara heard the whine of the mass accelerator charge building in the cannon. The Mako shook as the slug discharged, but the shot was wide.

"Did you _miss?"_ Alenko asked with a laugh.

"The targeting suite on this thing leaves a little something to be desired," Shepard mused, running his fingers over the haptic keys.

Alenko muttered something, too low for Liara to hear, but Shepard shot him a glare. Some of the heaviness was missing from his posture. She hadn't noticed how much it weighed him down until it was gone.

Shepard had interfaced with a _working _prothean beacon. She had only heard of it happening a handful of times, and in each of those cases the beacon was either too damaged to reveal much or the sensory overload was too powerful to handle. They were designed to meld with prothean physiology, therefore when it connected to something else the results were often…less than ideal. The brain tried to compensate for the things it did not understand by plugging in something it did, which usually ended badly.

So what kind of a man was Shepard, to have stepped through that ancient portal into another culture and come out the other side still intact?

He finished his calculations. "Ok, let's try that again."

The cannon discharged again with a boom. This time the slug grazed a rocky crag that jutted out to the far left of the formation he was aiming for. Alenko said nothing, but Liara heard a small snort that might have been laughter.

"How can a cannon be this useless at range?" Shepard muttered. "I need to get Tali or Garrus to find better targeting software. Whatever we've got is defective or was developed by some asshole who's never sat in the real thing."

"Yes, sir," Alenko said solemnly.

Shepard gave him a withering look. "You think it's funny. Wait until I make you get out and fight enemies on foot because I can't hit anything with a giant overpowered cannon."

"I'm sure I'll benefit from the experience," Alenko replied.

"Damn right you will." He put the Mako back into gear, once again heading for their intended target.

They had been joking – at least Liara thought they were – but deep down she thought that if Shepard asked Alenko to get out and fight a thresher maw on foot, he'd do it. Without question. Goddess, Liara thought she might, too. There was just something about him that demanded – _inspired – _more than you thought you were willing to give. When the words had tumbled out of her mouth asking to join his crew part of her had been screaming in protest, _what are you doing, you silly archeologist? You don't belong here!_

Maybe she didn't, but somehow it didn't matter. He was young, _so_ young to her eyes, but standing in the same room with him made her feel small and utterly naïve. He'd faced more adversaries in his short years than she had in her lifetime. You could see it in his eyes.

The Butcher of Torfan,the extranet called him. A nickname he'd earned on a small moon called Torfan. Yet he was the same person who had saved countless lives on Elysium during the Blitz, earning him the most honored medal the Alliance bestowed on its soldiers, akin to the asari Badge of Athame. What kind of man was both a butcher and a savior?

Whatever the answer, Liara was _positive_ it had everything to do with his successful link with the beacon. What had he seen?

She recalled the weariness he'd carried on his shoulders when she'd woken in the med bay, the haunted look that had come over his face when she'd talked about the beacon. _You wouldn't want to, _he'd said. _Not if you ever wanted to sleep again._

But Goddess help her, she did. He had experienced in a few moments what she'd searched for her entire life.

The Mako jolted again as Shepard veered left to circumvent a rock formation far more sharply than should have been necessary.

"Just testing the suspension," Shepard said cheerfully as Alenko grumbled something indecipherable under his breath. At least he hadn't driven over it, like he had the last one.

"Ease up a little, Commander, will you?" Alenko said. "We're getting close. It's probably not a good idea to go joyriding over a live nuke."

Shepard grudgingly obliged. The flag Joker had marked for them on their scanners was indeed close, but as they approached the coordinates she frowned. They were coming up on a low range of tumbled rock, the site of an old mine that had been abandoned during Amazon's last heat spike. It quickly became clear they were going to reach the mine before they reached the nuke's location.

Alenko came to the same conclusion. "Any ideas how a nuke winds up inside a mineshaft?" he asked uneasily.

Shepard parked the Mako a short distance from the mine tunnel and sat for a few moments, looking intently at a sealed door accessible by ramp. Strewn around its base were remnants of an old camp that bore no signs of recent use.

_What is he thinking?_ Liara wondered.

"Someone moved it there," he said eventually. "Alenko, anything on the scanners?"

"Negative," he replied. "But they may be having trouble penetrating the rock."

Liara heard the whine of Shepard's assault rifle powering up. Her skin prickled with fear. Maybe she shouldn't have come. She glanced uneasily at the mine. _Why a mine? Of all places, why did it have to be a mine?_

She felt Shepard's eyes on her. "Are you up for this?"

Liara steeled herself, nodded.

Shepard opened the hatch.

* * *

Garrus found Tali engrossed in propulsion readouts down in engineering. Adams and the other two engineers on duty were running routine systems checks as the drive core hummed in the background. The IES was engaged, and while that was the case they kept religious eyes on the heat sinks. He couldn't fail to notice however, that the two younger engineers kept risking glances over their shoulders at him once he strolled in. They seemed accustomed to Tali, even to the point of genuine affection, but Garrus was still the big bad turian. At least to some. Adams seemed uniquely untroubled by his alien crewmates. Garrus didn't think even Wrex bothered him much.

At least someone was happy to see him. "Hello," Tali greeted him pleasantly. "What did Joker say?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Garrus mused. "I think he agreed to the modifications, but I admit it's a little hard to tell. Not sure if it's a human thing, or a Joker thing." Garrus was rapidly learning there was a definite distinction between the two. He offered her a dextro ration bar, somewhat embarrassed by the mangled state it had managed to achieve in his pocket. "Hungry?"

"Oh! Yes, thanks. I meant to stop by the mess a couple of hours ago for something, but I got caught up down here."

So far Sargent Greico had made valiant attempts to fix them decent dextro meals, but unfortunately most had fallen woefully short of their goals. Garrus and Tali were already defaulting to ration bars over regular meals. On their next stopover he hoped to broaden their palates a little with some freeze dried meals that would taste a little less like paste. Tali didn't seem to mind too much, but he wasn't sure if she was just being polite or if growing up on the Flotilla, where resources were limited and palatable cuisine was more of a luxury, had tempered her taste buds. Garrus, on the other hand, had spent the last several years on the Citadel with some of the best restaurants in the galaxy. What he wouldn't give for a bixon flank steak, or dextro sushi from that restaurant on the Sunset Strip.

"Look at this," she said, pointing to one of her displays. "If we increase power output through this shunt, we can feed it to the GARDIAN without sacrificing the shields. We just have to figure out how to keep the relay from overloading."

"Let me take a look."

He glanced over her data while she went about the complicated process of feeding the rations bar through her suit filters. It looked cumbersome. No surprise Tali skipped a meal here and there. Very few quarians lived or passed through the Citadel even on pilgrimage, so Garrus hadn't been around them enough to give much thought to the difficulties living life in one of their suits would pose. He found himself admiring her for it.

The Council thought little of the quarians thanks to the geth, and most systems shunned the approach of the Migrant Fleet. Quarians were likewise about as welcoming to other aliens, who posed just one more threat to their weak immune systems. The way Tali described it, day to day life in the Flotilla constantly revolved around ship maintenance and disease control. Each was considered the primary threat to the seventeen million lives scattered throughout fifty thousand ships, some as old as the quarian retreat from Rannoch three hundred years ago. That the quarians were still around at all with all the handicaps they faced was a testament to their durability.

Tali's findings were unsurprisingly meticulous. Garrus began nosing through the GARDIAN relay schematics, looking for ways to bleed off the excess energy and reduce the overload risk.

Tali leaned against the railing overlooking the drive core while he worked, still making her way through the ration bar. "So have you spoken to your father yet?" she asked.

Garrus felt his plates tighten. "No…" he said hesitantly. "I think I'm hoping that if I keep avoiding that particular conversation long enough he'll just get over it."

"Has that approach ever worked before?"

He thought about the time he and Solana had pilfered one of their father's survival kits to go camping as kids. They'd neglected to mention it, forgotten to replace it, and on his next deployment he'd nearly been demoted as a result. When he'd come back home they'd tried hiding in a tree – with the intention of staying there the rest of their _lives_ if that's what it had taken – but eventually they'd gotten too hungry, not to mention Solana's horrible realization of the difficulties a tree posed to using the bathroom.

"I suppose not," he admitted with a sigh.

"Hey, I have a father who's hard to please, too," she told him. "When you're the daughter of an admiral everyone expects a lot more from you, with a much smaller margin for error."

"Admiral's daughter?" Garrus remarked, the quiver in his subharmonics betraying his surprise. "No wonder you decided to chase after the geth for your pilgrimage in favor of something more...tame."

She sighed somewhat glumly. "It's even bigger than that. He's not just an admiral. He's the head of the Admiralty Board. He and the four other Admirals have veto power over the civilian Conclave. He literally holds the lives of the entire fleet in his hands. I can't exactly settle for bringing back something routine like ship salvage."

Garrus felt a pang of sympathy, though it was somehow comforting to know that parent issues transcended species. "Don't worry, Tali. I'm pretty sure that over the course of chasing down hordes of geth, turian renegades and asari matriarchs we'll find something you can bring back that far exceeds anyone's expectations."

"Thanks," she said. "And you shouldn't worry either. I'm sure your dad will be proud you're out here tracking down Saren."

Garrus grunted. "Not likely. It may sound good to you, but turians aren't supposed to go against the grain, and jumping in with Shepard is most definitely going against the grain."

She tilted her head, brushing a few crumbs from the ration bar off her sleeve. "Do you regret leaving C-Sec?" she asked.

"Fighting a rogue Spectre with countless lives at stake and no regulations to get in the way? Pretty sure that beats C-Sec."

He couldn't see her grin, but he could hear it in her voice.

"I'm pleased the imminent destruction of all organic life has improved your career opportunities."

"Me too. Now if only Shepard would just hurry up and finish recovering that probe, we could get on with that modest goal."

"In the meantime," she said, lifting a tool kit lying near her feet and handing it to him. "Time to get some work done."

* * *

Shepard took point as they entered the mine, weapon drawn, body tensed and ready. Alenko followed. Liara hadn't noticed the amp plugged in to the base of his neck before but she saw it now. He was a biotic. _How surprising. _

The shaft was a much more durable construct than Therum, but still similar enough to make her shudder. The only sound was that of their own footfalls, though Liara was breathing loud enough she was positive they could hear.

Scanners still showed nothing as they reached a small cavern that split off into two more tunnels. Shepard consulted his omnitool, then motioned to the left branch. Alenko unsealed the door and Shepard led them down the shaft, shorter this time, which opened up into a much larger cavern strewn with storage crates and canisters. None of them looked new, but neither did they seem ancient. Shepard motioned for Alenko to head left, then signaled for Liara to follow him.

A full circle of the cavern still revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Liara began to relax a little, but noticed Shepard seemed even more on edge.

"Who goes to the trouble of hauling a probe with a nuclear payload all the way down here?" Alenko asked uneasily.

Shepard scowled. "Where's the damn transponder?"

Alenko pointed to another door, leading them even deeper in. How far underground were they now? Liara could have used her HUD to answer that question, but she didn't really want to know.

Shepard held his rifle ready as Alenko unsealed the door, then again proceeded first down the tunnel. This one was slightly longer than the last, and ended in a chamber significantly smaller. The probe rested against a far wall. Liara realized with growing discomfort that the panels on its long, cylindrical face were lit and active.

There was a loud rumble. Liara whirled in time to see a shower of dust come hurtling down the shaft they'd entered from. Shepard grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her sharply backwards, pulling her around and then behind him. Both he and Alenko were pointing their weapons. When the dust began to settle Shepard nodded to Alenko. "Check it out."

The lieutenant disappeared up the shaft. Liara bit her lip. _Escape from one mine to die trapped in another. _

Shepard approached the nuke warily. Liara rubbed her fingers together, feeling out the gravity of the room. Within a few moments Alenko came jogging back in, expression grim. "We're sealed in," he reported. "Looks like demolition charges. They're blocking the tunnel behind us."

Swearing, Shepard activated his comm. "Shepard to _Normandy_. Joker, do you hear me? Joker!"

"_They can't hear you, Commander_," a voice said. A holo projection of a turian flickered to life just to the right of the nuke. He bore unusual clan markings on his face and was wearing a heavy suit of armor. A visor similar to Garrus' covered his right eye.

"_The ore in this cavern is laced with heavy metals. Your suit radios are useless_."

Shepard strode towards the projection. "Who the hell are you?"

"_Elanos Haliat_," the turian replied. "_I doubt you know me by name, but you're quite familiar with my work_."

"You're assuming I give a damn, Haliat," Shepard said.

"_Believe me, Commander Shepard, you do. If I interpret the reports out of Torfan correctly, you care _very_ much_."

Shepard's shoulders went rigid. Haliat's mandibles flicked with pleasure.

"_You see_," he went on, "_at one time I led the Terminus clans. Pirates answer only to the strongest. The one who kills the most men, seizes the most ships…pillages the most colonies. Seven years ago _I_ was that one._"

"Elysium," Shepard muttered. Liara could not see his face, but his voice was like a steel trap snapping suddenly shut.

"_Yes_," the turian replied, subharmonics dripping with pride. "_Elysium was my vision. Sacking the largest human colony in the cluster. It was to be my greatest victory!"_

Shepard folded his arms across his chest. "How did that work out for you?"

Haliat snarled. "_Your famous stand _ruined_ me. But now it is my turn. I found this…errant probe two years ago, and have been waiting since then to determine how I could best put it to use. Imagine my delight to learn that you of all people had been made a Spectre. Not that I'm surprised. Your work on Torfan makes you the perfect man to handle the Council's dirty work."_

Shepard's fists clenched. Haliat paid no attention.

"_What better person to cover up an Alliance mistake than a man no longer burdened by the constraints of law? Of course they would send you." _He laughed. "_The first human Spectre, killed by his people's own bomb. It almost makes the last seven years worth it."_

"Won't be worth much when you're dead," Shepard said, in a voice so flat and dead it made Liara shudder.

The turian, however, was unimpressed. "_That is not a problem I'm about to have,_" he replied. "_Goodbye, Shepard._"

Liara could feel Shepard's rage radiating off of him like it was a living thing. _"_You'll see me again, Haliat," he said, each word slow and razor sharp.

"_I very much doubt that." _

The holo vanished, and to Liara it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. There was a terrifying pause before Alenko dropped beside one of the nuke's active panels. "It's on a timer, Commander," he said in a clipped tone, the urgency in his voice spurring them to action. Shepard looked at his LT with fury in his eyes.

"Make it happen, Kaidan."

Alenko pointed. "Everyone take a hard point. There's three of them. I'll talk you through it!"

"How much time to do we have?" Shepard asked.

"Believe me, you do not want to know."

* * *

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore the throbbing in his toe. On his last trip to the crew deck he'd stubbed it on something and heard the familiar crack. Looked like he needed to finally give in to Dr. Chakwas' demands and swing by the med bay, much to his dismay. She'd been after him since the moment he got on board, but he'd been able to put her off until now. As much as he wished he could just ignore it, he'd learned the hard way that was a bad idea. But the ordeal of jumping to yet another new doctor, going over the entire complicated history, again, listening to the usual cautions and warnings, again, and hearing the same list of treatment options that didn't work _again_ was more than he could stand.

He needed doctors. Hated doctors. They usually hated him too, once they got to know him.

At least this time he could ease Dr. Chakwas in with something on the mild side. His first encounter with his CMO on the _Sutjeska_ had been a snapped tibia. That was a fun one.

He stretched gingerly, not looking forward to asking for assistance getting up once Shepard and the away team returned. They were taking _forever_.

"Any sign of them yet?"

Joker glanced behind him to see Pressly leaning against the doorframe of the cockpit, sipping a cup of coffee.

Joker shifted in his seat, grimaced a little, and pointed to the transponder signal. It hadn't moved in an hour. "Mako's still parked. Don't know what's taking them so long."

"Have you tried reaching them?"

"While they're in the middle of deactivating a nuke?"

Pressly grunted.

Joker smirked. "Relax, old man. The biofeeds are still in the green. Nothing to worry about."

A light on the comm panel flashed. Joker frowned, tapping it with a finger. It had come in on priority bandwidth, originating from the Citadel. Specifically, Captain Anderson. "Then again…" he said.

"What is it?"

Joker showed him the message. Pressly's eyes widened a little. Joker activated the comm link to Shepard's hardsuit. "_Normandy_ to Shepard. Come in, Commander. Hate to bother you, but we've got something important here."

There was no answer.

* * *

Liara's palms were sweating inside her suit gauntlets. Alenko's instructions were crisp and calm, but there was unmistakable urgency in his voice. He'd uploaded a decryption protocol to her omnitool, but it had to be implemented manually. Liara had some tech skills, but she'd definitely never had to deactivate a nuke.

Her hands shook suddenly and she concealed a gasp. Within seconds Alenko was beside her. "We've got this," he told her.

He input the final algorithm. She held her breath.

The light on the panel flicked from green to red. Alenko exhaled with relief. "You do not want to know how close that was," he said.

"What do we do now?" Liara ventured, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

"We're finding a way out of here," Shepard growled. "Someone out there needs my boot up their ass."

"I'm detecting another shaft in that last chamber," Alenko said, consulting his omnitool. "It's sealed off, but if it's still intact it might take us to another exit higher up the mountain."

Shepard strode wordlessly back up the shaft. Alenko located the sealed door behind a wall of crates and opened it swiftly.

"Lot easier than a nuke," he said, trying to keep his voice light. Shepard did not reply. There was something dark, almost dead about his expression that terrified her. Every movement he made was controlled and deliberate, like water held back by a dam. One glance at Alenko told her he saw it too.

Shepard's wrath only increased as they made their way gingerly through the opened shaft, which wound slowly upwards at a steeper incline than the route they'd taken in. Like Alenko had guessed, this one was leading them higher into the mountain. By the time they reached the exit Shepard already had his gun drawn.

"Hang on, Shepard, we need to—"

"He dies today," Shepard said. "Right now. Got it?"

Alenko's shoulders went rigid. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Joker made another attempt to raise the Mako. Nothing. Shepard's radio was silent, as was Alenko's and the asari's. _What the hell…_

Then to his great surprise, the Mako's transponder began to move. Exhaling in momentary relief he tried once more to get a response. This time though, there was not only nothing, but his scans were telling him the comm line had actually been disabled. Manually. _Oh, shit._

"Pressly?"

"What."

"Shepard's in trouble. Any chance we can get in closer for an air drop?"

The navigator scowled at some of the data feeds crawling across Joker's screen. "Give me a minute. And tell Williams and the rest of those aliens to assemble in the cargo hold."


	17. Chapter 17: Prodromus

**Author's Note:** There will be no new chapters for the weeks of 8/18 and 8/24. I'm getting a little behind, and I need to give some real world things the attention they deserve. In lieu of new chapters I'll be posting two new shorts I've been sitting on for a little while. The first takes place in the _Exordium_ universe, the second...might. It's a peek ahead to ME2. They aren't required reading for this story, but they are neat little adjuncts. Because they are stand alone you won't get a notification unless you get author updates, but they'll be posted on Sunday as usual. See my Tumblr (link in my profile) for any more info.

Regular updates resume 9/1. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 17. Prodromus**

They wound their way down a rough path leading out from the mineshaft and to a ridge, below which their scanners picked up movement. Haliat's camp. Liara's combat scanner read eight lifesigns, turian, batarian and even a vorcha. Staying low she swept the camp with her eyes, breath catching in surprise at the sight of the Mako parked nearby – not at all where they left it. Shepard made a noise in his throat. "So he wants to kill me _and_ take my goddamned tank." He checked the heat sink on his rifle.

Alenko came to stand in front of him, holding up one hand. "Hang on a second, Shepard. We need a plan. It's three against eight, and once they see us we're totally exposed up here."

"The plan is that none of them leave this planet alive. I'm going for Haliat. You and T'Soni cover me. Got it?"

"Sir—"

Shepard pushed past him, and without further warning began to descend the ridge, sliding down the steep slope through loose and tumbled rock. Below them several heads turned in their direction, attracted by the noise and sudden plumes of dust kicked up by Shepard's boots.

Alenko swore and went after him. Liara had no choice but to follow, wrapping herself in her barrier and forming a glove of dark energy as she went.

Haliat's first barrage fell short. Only one of his men, another turian, appeared to be armed with a sniper rifle. Shepard saw it and skidded left, opening up Alenko to take aim while Shepard kept moving. Liara saw Alenko palm a tech mine, but both of them knew it would fall short. She inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of her corona bathe her skin with increasing warmth. Using the targeting software of her miniframe she focused on the sniper rifle and flung the field, watching it speed towards its target. It was a precision strike from far away, difficult for even skilled biotics, but if there was one way in which Liara T'Soni resembled her mother it was this.

_Feel your target, _her mother's voice whispered in her ear_. Lock it in your mind. Make it part of you. _The field struck the gun and wrapped it in a blue embrace. Liara smiled grimly and yanked. The gun ripped from the turian's surprised hands and somersaulted away, hopelessly out of reach. Alenko whirled to face her in shock, but she had already summoned another well of dark energy. A baratian and the vorcha had run to the turian's aid, all poorly shielded.

"Can you detonate a singularity?" she called out.

Alenko, still stunned, coughed out a yes. Without further hesitation Liara heaved the squirming ball of dark matter right into the center of them. The event horizon bloomed, swallowing the pirates into a maw of intense gravitational forces that whipped them around like rag dolls.

Alenko threw his own sphere of dark energy, which struck the singularity with a resounding _boom, _eviscerating the pirates into shimmering streams of blue and crimson gore.

Shepard reached the bottom of the ridge, careening past the carnage with sights set on Haliat, who was making a run for the Mako. Two batarians, reeling from the sight of their comrades' sudden, emphatic demise recovered enough to try and intercept, but a tech mine from Alenko hit the ground at their feet and detonated with a resounding crack. He was in weapons range now, closing fast as he fired his pistol, taking advantage of their disrupted shielding to mow them down.

Alenko was not the only one with tech mines, however. One of the remaining turians had taken cover behind a crate, and as Shepard sprinted past he laid one right at his feet. The blast slammed Shepard to the ground. Liara's hardsuit alarms immediately triggered, informing her his shields were down. She could hear the screech of the overheat klaxon on his rifle from here. The turian moved in for the kill, but as he raised his boot to bring it down on Shepard's neck he froze.

Liara stood with her hands outstretched, every ounce of her concentration pouring into a mass effect field that now held the turian immobilized. Shepard rolled, kicked his still-cooling weapon out of the way and drew a shotgun. Haliat stood a few meters away. He wore no helmet – his thulium laced carapace unharmed by the toxic atmosphere – and the shocked dismay on his face was discernible even from a distance.

Shepard pumped the shotgun, paying no heed to the fact that his shields had not yet recovered. His voice crackled over his comm, which seemed to have taken damage from the blast.

"_You wanted to make this personal?_"

He laid down on the trigger again, the force of the slug sapping the turian's remaining shields. Haliat stumbled and Shepard was on top of him, delivering a blow to the head that sent a stream of blue blood cruor from his nose. Shepard grabbed him by the back of his crest and jerked upward, eliciting a scream of pain. Shepard leaned in close. "_It's personal_."

Liara looked away as he finished the job, letting go of her stasis field in the process. The freed turian lost his balance as gravity regained control of his body. Exhausted, Liara drew her pistol, aiming with a shaking hand, and pulled the trigger. She missed the first two shots, but the third hit home with a sickening squelch that made her want to throw up.

The remaining pirate, a batarian, tried to flee. Shepard glanced in his direction, scooped a discarded assault rifle off the ground and fired. The batarian screamed and fell.

Shepard lowered the gun, breathing heavily. Acrid smoke still drifted from his hardsuit, and there were deep, black scorch marks on his legs and chestplate. Liara's HUD informed her the shield generator was fried. Alenko reached him, holstering his pistol. Liara was not far behind.

"You all right?" Alenko asked.

"Fine."

"What the hell was—"

"Not now, Alenko."

Alenko bristled. "Do you have any idea—"

"I said not _now,_ Lieutenant!" Shepard's voice reverberated off the rock, tight and still rich with anger. Alenko stayed silent this time, but Liara saw his fists clench, expression vague behind the glare of his faceplate. .

Shepard headed back to the Mako without another word. When they were safely inside Alenko re-enabled the comm system amidst a painful, awkward silence.

"Joker," Shepard said once it was up. "You read us?"

"_Oh, thank the Christ, Commander. We've been trying to raise you for an hour. Got the cavalry ready to send in. Everything all right?"_

"The nuke's been disabled. We're ready to get the hell out of here."

"_Good, because I've got an emergency call up here from Captain Anderson you're gonna want to take." _

* * *

The moment they returned to the _Normandy_ Shepard disappeared to his quarters, ignoring the protestations of Joker and Pressly. Alenko went to go mollify them, discarding his helmet in the cargo bay and leaving it there, but either forgetting or choosing not to care that he was still wearing the rest of his armor. Liara sat on a crate near the lockers of the dim cargo bay, dutifully pulling off her armor piece by piece and shrugging back into her jumpsuit. She still wasn't sure what had happened, or what she was supposed to do next.

It took her a few minutes to even realize she wasn't alone. Well, she knew she wasn't _alone_. Garrus Vakarian and a few _Normandy_ techs were securing the Mako and running systems checks. But they were on the other side of the cargo bay and ignoring Liara completely. The quarian, Tali, however, wasn't. She'd been in the cargo bay armed and ready along with several others when they had retured. Though Tali had no need to strip out of her armor she'd stayed behind, and now sat down on the crate beside Liara.

"Sounds like things didn't exactly go as planned," she said, the artificial flange in her voice tinged with sympathy.

Liara let out a shaky breath. It wasn't until now, sitting here in the cargo bay, that she realized how shaken she felt, how _tired_. "No, not exactly. Though I'm getting the impression that's par for the course on this ship." She picked up her chestplate and headed to the locker she'd been assigned. Tali scooped up her boots and followed.

"Thanks," Liara said gratefully, stuffing them inside the locker. She'd clean them later.

"Any time," Tali replied. "I've got a few things to finish in the engine room, but if you'd like some company later, I'd be happy to join you."

"I'd like that," Liara said, and meant it.

She dragged herself to the elevator and took it to the crew deck, wanting nothing more than a shower and sleep. But when she headed aft she saw Alenko seated at the mess table, head in his hands. Dust and grime coated his hardsuit, his hair was damp with sweat and when he looked up there were smudges on his face from where he'd wiped his brow with gloved hands. She slid into the seat across from him, trying not to glance at the nearby door to Shepard's cabin.

Alenko offered her a tired smile. "Hey, you did good down there. Actually, forget good. That was incredible. Never seen a precision field like that. And a singularity is something I haven't been able to pull off."

"Thanks," she said, uncertain what else to say.

Alenko sighed a little. "Things don't usually…go like that."

Whether he meant the ambush by pirates or Shepard's reckless assault she wasn't sure, but thought he probably meant the latter. Though she didn't exactly like to think that pirate ambushes _were_ considered routine.

"Is he all right?" she asked.

"Shepard?" Alenko glanced over at the door to his quarters, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as though warding off pain. "Yeah, he'll be fine," he said at last. "That just got more…personal than he was expecting. If Haliat really did mastermind Elysium, well. Shepard…attacks on colonies hit pretty close to home for him."

"Thank you for saving us down there," she said. "The nuke, I mean."

He chuckled. "It's rapidly becoming a daily part of the job. But it was my pleasure." He rolled his neck, groaning a little. "I guess it's time to get this suit off. Get cleaned up. You should get some rest, Dr. T'Soni. There are longer days than this ahead, believe it or not."

Liara believed it. Too well.

Alenko got to his feet, wavering a little, hand rising to his temple. She heard him swear softly. She started to ask if he needed assistance, but he headed off towards the showers and paid her no heed.

* * *

Shepard sat in the dark of his cabin, gazing into nothing. He was still wearing his armor, coated in the dust of Agebinium and the faint tang of fried servos. The automatic diagnostic his suit had run informed him the damage was too extensive for field repair, probably too extensive for repair period. Looks like Ashley wasn't the only one in need of a new hardsuit.

Every inch of his body hurt. Alenko was right to be angry – there was no excuse for his heedless attack. Had he been at all focused on his surroundings and not gotten tunnel vision at the sight of Haliat he would have seen that tech mine coming. He could still see that frozen boot hovering mere inches from his face.

Elanos Haliat.

The names and faces of the dead on Elysium began rolling through his mind unbidden. The Alliance had heaped so much praise on him in the aftermath, lauded him for his heroics and celebrated the lives he'd saved. They never thought about O'Neal or Cory Bonner, who had implemented the diversion Shepard had used to draw the batarians away from the civilian bunkers and died for it, or Angela Singarella and her daughters Moira and Ellie, who had been on the wrong side of the barricade. There were hundreds who had been sacrificed that day, their names and faces seared into his brain. And if he allowed his thoughts to drift further back…

He always romanticized those moments right before. Whatever imperfections may have in truth existed that last night on Mindoir had been blurred and eventually erased over the years, until in Shepard's mind it was a halcyon memory, the apotheosis of a childhood that was about to come to a crushing, bloodied end.

It didn't matter if that wasn't actually true. None of it mattered, anymore.

But he still remembered the after with sick, rich clarity. Could still taste the fear in the back of his mouth, feel the dry, crackling heat of fire and smell the eye-watering sulfuric stench of burning red hair.

He remembered the front door opening, the smile on his mother's face draining away, the batarian with a gun to his father's temple. The bowl of mashed potatoes, that first successful crop they'd all worked so hard on, tumbling from Shepard's nerveless fingers and splattering all over the floor. Oddly enough, it wasn't the blood that had marked him the most, not the fire, not the screams. It had been those white, puffy gobs smeared across the floor.

Men like Haliat were the reason Mindoir happened. He didn't care if it had been reckless. Given the chance, Shepard would kill Haliat again. Over and over, with no regrets and no sleep lost.

The comm on his desk chimed. It had already done so twice, but now Joker was using the emergency frequency.

He turned in his chair and hit the comm panel, harder than he intended. "What."

"_Sorry sir, but you've got to take this. Anderson is screaming to talk to you. It's about the geth." _

Shepard grunted and cut him off, but accepted the incoming message. Anderson's face materialized on the vidcomm, his graven features rigid with irritation.

"_Commander, I've been trying to reach you for an hour."_

"I've been busy. Sir."

He watched as Anderson took a good look at him, expression shifting to surprise and even dismay as he noticed Shepard's scorched, ruined armor. "_Shepard. What the hell happened?_"

"I was on a recovery mission for Hackett," Shepard replied, watching his face closely for a reaction. "It was a set up by Elanos Haliat. Ring any bells?"

There was a long pause, and in it, Shepard briefly wondered if Anderson knew about the mission, or worse, if he or Hackett had any foreknowledge of Haliat.

Anderson's shoulders sagged a little, and the nagging thought left Shepard's mind as quickly as it had come. "_We thought Haliat was dead._"

Shepard grimaced. "He is now."

"_Shepard—"_

"It's done," Shepard interrupted. "The mission was a success. Haliat's days of murdering colonists are over. What do you have for me?"

"_I'd like to know what happened."_

Shepard was not about to be drawn into a conversation about it. Not now. Not with Anderson. Not with _anyone_, but definitely not with Anderson. "You'll get a copy of the report."

Anderson exhaled deeply, his expression uneasy. "_Are you sure you're all right?" _

"What do you have for me?" Shepard repeated. "Joker said it was about the geth."

Anderson's eyes narrowed. His hands, clasped in front of him on his desk, fidgeted a little. "_We've gotten a distress call from the colony of Zhu's Hope on Feros. They're being attacked by the geth." _

Shepard frowned, shifting a little in his seat and wincing as his muscles screamed. That slide down the slope was going to come back to haunt him. "What's on Feros the geth would want?"

"_Prothean ruins, for starters. It's a largely intact metropolis city. The surface is uninhabitable, so the colony is built in one of the skyscrapers. It's small. ExoGeni funded it. They're conducting some kind of research."_

"What kind of research?"

"_They're keeping that to themselves. It's the best lead we have right now. If the geth are there Saren could be with them."_

Shepard leaned back in his chair, idly rubbing an aching shoulder. "Ok, we'll check it out. Send me whatever you've got on Feros."

Anderson leaned forward. "_Shepard, are you sure everything's all right?"_

"I need better gear," he said by way of reply. "Guns, armor. High end modifications."

"_I'll coordinate with your requisitions officer."_

Anderson's eyes flicked away briefly, and his hands began to drum on his desk. Shepard folded his arms and remained silent.

"_How are your new…additions working out?" _

Shepard dipped his chin slightly, some of the tension riding his body replaced with a flush of pride. For the first time he thought about what Liara had pulled off on Agebinium. There was no question she'd saved his ass, and he hadn't even thanked her. "You'd be proud of them, sir."

A ghost of a smile crossed Anderson's face. "_Good. Watch your back, son. There's more like Haliat out there."_

"I will." Shepard severed the comm link before Anderson could say anything further. Now he drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Joker."

"_Aye, Commander." _

"Find out whatever system Feros is located in and have Pressly plot a course. We're going after some geth."

* * *

Prodrome phase. Kaidan wished like hell he was wrong, that maybe the stiff neck was purely combat related, but the moment he'd passed through the mess, the smell of the beef stew Greico was cooking sent a crippling wave of nausea over him.

An invisible clock in his brain had started to tick, putting him on an unavoidable collision course with pure misery.

He made a beeline for the med bay for the first round of NSAIDs that he usually took as a preemptive measure. When the pain finally hit it would be time for the triptans.

There was no such thing as good timing for a migraine, but he couldn't think of a worse scenario than being mere hours away from another encounter with the geth.

When the doors slid open Kaidan found Joker sitting on one of the beds, wearing a disgruntled and uncooperative look as Dr. Chakwas tended to his foot, scolding him vehemently.

"…should have been the first person you visited when you came on board. The medication regimen I was forwarded is out of date, you haven't taken your regular dose of duriphohol and there is a three month gap in your records between your posting on the _Tannenburg _and the _Normandy. _You can't let a case as serious as yours go without frequent, thorough examinations!"

"Pretty sure I'm thoroughly versed in all the horrible things Vrolki's syndrome can do to my shitty little body," Joker shot back, readjusting his position on the bed. Dr. Chakwas was about to retort, but at the sight of Kaidan she clammed up. Joker merely grunted and looked pointedly in the other direction.

"Yes, Lieutenant," she said, straightening up and trying to smooth the agitation out of her features. He was impressed at how easily she did it. "What can I do for you?"

"Looking for some NSAIDs," he said, shifting his feet. "Sorry to interrupt."

Concern flooded the doctor's face. Unlike Joker, Kaidan had visited Dr. Chakwas after taking his new post, and she knew exactly why he needed them. "How bad?" she asked.

"Nothing yet," he assured her. "Just going on the preemptive. It's coming."

She combed through a medicine cabinet until she found the right bottle, then offered him two tablets. "I'll speak to Commander Shepard about doing the next mission without you," she said.

"No," he said quickly. "No way. I'm still fit for duty. Could still be a day or two before it hits. Not gonna sit this one out."

She angled her chin, sympathy on her face mingling with the medical pragmatism that he hated probably as much as Joker. "The last thing he needs is to be in the middle of something critical and have you incapacitated."

Kaidan forced a smile. "I understand, doctor, but two out of our first three missions have involved disarming explosives intended to blow us to smithereens, so if it's all the same to you I'm going along. Saren's more important than a migraine."

"Very well," she said, crossing her arms. "But if it hits before we arrive I'm going to reevaluate the situation. And I have the final word."

"Sure, Doc." He was in no mood to argue. Medication in hand, he sought out a glass of water from the mess and kicked back the pills. He wanted to rest, knew he needed to before they reached Feros, but there was work to do first. With a sigh he headed to a terminal near the sleeper pods and started inventorying tech mines and sorting through the equipment manifest looking to see if there was a recoil dampener somewhere he could equip on his pistol. A medical interface for his armor wouldn't be a bad idea either, under the current circumstances…

"Hey."

He looked up to find Shepard standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, an almost abashed look on his face. There was no trace of the wrath that had sent him careening down the mountain on Agebinium.

"Shepard," he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He stepped away from the terminal and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Need something?"

Shepard scrutinized him for a moment, his usually composed expression resembling something more like consternation. For a moment he thought Dr. Chakwas had talked to him about the impending migraine, and that Shepard was trying to find a way to break it to him he sided with the doc. But he quickly realized he was wrong. I If Shepard wanted to bench him he just _would_.

"Look, about Agebinium."

"Liara did a hell of a job," Kaidan said quickly."I know my experience with other biotics is limited to humans, but damn. I've never seen control like that."

Shepard inclined his chin a little. "Yeah," he said finally. "She said she was trained, but you're right. I didn't expect that."

Kaidan shook his head. "Pulled that rifle right out of that turian's hands. You should have seen his face." _She stopped that bullet meant for you,_ Kaidan thought. "If Lady Benezia turns out to be hiding behind an army of asari Commandos I think our odds just got a lot better."

Shepard glanced away briefly, watching a crewman pass by on his way to the pods. "Provided she's willing to use those skills against her own mother."

"She'll do fine," Kaidan insisted. "We won't let you down."

After a long pause Shepard nodded, the lines at the corners of his eyes softening somewhat. "Thanks," he said. "We reach Feros at eleven hundred."

"I'll be ready," Kaidan said. Shepard left him alone, heading back towards the CIC stairs. A whiff of tomatoes reached him from the mess and he blanched.

Tick, tick, tick…


	18. Chapter 18: Caeli Pontem

**Chapter 18. Caeli Pontem**

Though thick whorls of clouds reared dozens of ancient, crumbling skyscrapers, all blistered porous by Feros' caustic, dust-choked winds. The remnants of a sophisticated skyway system still connected them like concrete ribbons, some eroded to ruin while others remained staunchly intact. Below the clouds the surface was smothered in a tumult of debris and collapsed masonry where over the course of 50,000 years the foundations of the prothean city had gradually and sometimes violently given way. A permanent malaise of grit churned above the ruin, worming its way into every nook and crack of the still-standing architecture, scraping it raw.

The sheer vastness of the dead city, blanketing two thirds of the planet's landmass, formed a staggering sight as the _Normandy_ skimmed through the atmosphere on its way to the coordinates for Zhu's Hope, a small port colony that provided access to ExoGeni's main headquarters. The skeletal peaks that greeted them, some crumbled, some shorn, some merely hollowed shells, stood the hair on Shepard's neck on end. Against his will he found himself imagining faces in the abandoned windows, looking out and up in surprise and wonder as the sky blackened and living steel descended.

He shifted his feet and straightened his posture a little, thankful that Williams, Garrus and Joker were focused on the view outside the cockpit shutters.

"So where the hell is this colony supposed to be if there isn't room on the ground?" Williams asked, arching a doubtful eyebrow as she leaned over Joker's seat. Joker swatted at her, the third time by Shepard's count, for invading his personal space.

"It's in one of the skyscrapers," Shepard replied, diverting his gaze to one of the navigation panels. Garrus, who had crammed himself into the conn beside Joker, flicked a mandible.

"A skyscraper," she said dubiously. "Kind of hard to grow crops in a skyscraper."

"Rooftop hydroponics," Joker supplied, not without a hint of smugness. "That's how the protheans did it, anyway."

"Joker, I'm impressed," Shepard said with an easy smile, some of his unease retreating back to the same dark place where Elanos Haliat currently resided.

Joker waved a carefree hand. "Contrary to popular belief I occasionally read beyond the extranet's morbid celebrity highlights."

"That's a lot classier than what _I _thought you did on the extranet," Williams said with a roll of her eye.

He flung a dramatic hand across his chest. "Ash. That hurts."

"Any sign of the geth?" Shepard cut in.

"Negative," Joker replied. "There's a lot of interference, though. I'm guessing we have drop ships somewhere in the area. Whatever dropped 'em off is no longer in orbit, but ten credits says they'll be back."

"Unless they already got what they wanted and split," Williams mused. Shepard glanced at her. He'd thought the same thing, just opted not to say it aloud.

"Can you raise the colony?"

Joker shook his head. "Been trying since we entered the system. Here's hoping whatever passes for a docking bay in a place like this is intact. If not, guess we need to see if the _Normandy_ stocks parachutes."

"I'm reading power signatures near the coordinates," Garrus spoke up. "They're low and fluctuating, but there. Something's still intact."

"Look," Williams said, once again pointing over Joker's shoulder. He raised his hand for another rebuke, but stopped halfway.

Smoke billowed from two of the ancient prothean spires in thick, malignant plumes, originating from a gaping orange glow like an open sore. Shepard felt every muscle in his body tighten.

"Find a place to dock," Shepard ordered. "One way or another we're getting into that colony."

"Yes, sir," Joker said with a brusque nod.

"Williams, Garrus. Suit up. I want everyone at the airlock ready to go as soon as we arrive."

* * *

The Zhu's Hope docking bay was a cramped, small opening delved into the side of the tower. The _Normandy's _size nearly exceeded its capacity, resulting in a rather snippy argument between Joker and Pressly about safe clearance margins. While the docking bay had somehow survived thus far intact, Joker had been forced to bring them in without tower control. If there was anyone alive in the colony, they were frustratingly silent.

Shepard thought Pressly might have a stroke as Joker serenely guided the sleek ship into the narrow confines of the bay, whistling cheekily throughout the process.

Now Shepard waited impatiently for the airlock to cycle, rolling his shoulders and hearing the joints of his new Titan armor creak. Anderson had made good on his word to get Shepard better equipment. They'd rendezvoused with a supply ship before making the relay jump and taken on crates of new weaponry and armor, including a new Duelist hardsuit for Williams. She hadn't been thrilled to be wearing something made by ERCS, arguing that turians would have no idea how to make human armor, but Shepard was pretty sure the first time it turned a bullet without so much as a ripple she'd change her tune. If there was one thing turians knew how to prepare for it was getting shot at.

Joker's voice filtered over the comm as the airlock cycle completed. _"Commander, thought I'd let you know that whatever signal interference was blocking Zhu's Hope is now blocking us, too. So if you were planning to send a greeting card to the Council it's going to have to wait until this gets figured out." _

"Noted," Shepard replied, raising his new Raptor pattern assault rifle as the airlock doors slid open. No geth had been detected in the immediate vicinity, but Shepard wasn't taking any chances.

The interior of the snug docking bay was eerily silent. Dust granules hung in the air, occasionally catching the light of the hot sun like tiny prisms. A stale, aged odor hung in the air. There was no one to greet them, no sign that anyone, including the geth, had noticed their arrival.

Shepard's eye twitched. "Williams and Tali, you're with me. The rest of you stay here until we've scouted out ahead a little. If you hear gunfire, get your asses in gear. Got it?"

Alenko eyed Wrex somewhat warily. "Yes, sir."

Williams and Tali crept silently behind him, the debris littering the ramp crunching under their boots. Joker's scans insisted the bay was structurally sound, but numerous cracks spidering the antiquated stone pylons and arcing up into the ceiling made him wonder how accurate those scans might be.

They followed the ramps to the main entrance of the colony, which was beset with makeshift barricades and a row of guns that were universally pointed in their direction.

"Got your six," Williams said softly from behind him.

Behind each gun barrel was a frayed and battered colonist, six total, all with red, bleary eyes that spoke of stim pack overuse. Their clothes were rumpled, dirty, and in some cases singed. The look in their eyes reminded Shepard uncomfortably of his men on Torfan right before everything went straight to hell. These people were waiting for death to swoop out of the sky and carry them off kicking and screaming.

"We're here to help," Shepard said, making a show of lowering his weapons and gesturing for his squad to do the same. Williams hissed through her teeth but complied.

"Who are you?" a short, blonde woman challenged. The barrel of her gun weaved a little, then snapped back to the center of Shepard's forehead.

"We're with the Alliance," Shepard called back. _Well,_ he thought, _some of us anyway._

Skepticism reined with the woman, but undeniable relief spread through the others. An exhausted middle-aged man lowered his weapon and stood. "You're not geth. That's all I care about." Amidst mild protests he strode forward and offered his hand. "David Al Talaqani," he said. "Thank God you're here. Are there more of you?"

Shepard shook his head "I have more members of my team waiting with my ship, but if you mean a platoon, then no. We got the call and came here as quick as we could. What's the situation?"

Al Talaqani tried to conceal his disappointment. "They hit us about two weeks ago. No warning. We got a distress call from the ExoGeni building, then lost all contact. Then geth started coming up from the basement, from the skyway…from _everywhere._ They found passages in a day that we hadn't in a year."

Shepard scowled. "How many? What do they want?"

He shook his head wearily. "Don't know. We've been too busy trying to fence them out to worry about what they want. We're almost out of stims and out of men. There were a lot more of us a few days ago."

Shepard's eyes drifted over them, taking in their worn but dogged faces, saw the approaching knell of defeat even if they had thus far refused to acknowledge it. He wondered to himself how many on Mindoir had felt the same way.

"Take him to Fai Dan," the woman said with a sigh and heavy wave of her hand. "He'll have more answers than we do and he'll want to see them anyway."

"Macha –"

"We got this for now," she said. "Just go. When you come back I need to get back on the aqueduct."

Al Talaqani nodded, then gestured for Shepard and his team to follow.

Shepard angled his head and spoke into his comm. "Alenko, we're clear over here. Bring everyone in. These people need some help." He paused before following. "We have a krogan with us," he warned them. "Don't be alarmed."

They gazed at him with detached expressions. He seriously doubted anything would turn a hair at this point, but no sense in taking chances.

The colony of Zhu's Hope, whatever it had been before the geth, was now little more than wreckage. It occupied one of the upper levels of a skyscraper that was deliberately exposed to open air, making them an easy target. A few modular shacks remained standing, but it looked like the bulk of the colony had focused their defenses around a wrecked Kowloon class freighter that now served as their primary shelter. The ship's metallic hide was pocked with dents and scorch marks where the geth had tried and failed to breach it.

A long cylindrical aqueduct snaked past them as they approached the freighter, a tool case and diagnostic equipment strewn around an attached control panel. Shepard gave the unattended screen a cursory glance, enough to tell him that there was no water flowing. As Al Talaqani escorted them to the freighter doors, other colonists regarded them with wary but hopeful expressions.

Inside the freighter Shepard spotted makeshift triage centers in the ship's former crew quarters and storage compartments. Several of the cots were occupied as flustered colonists moved back and forth trying to lend aid. Shepard doubted any of them were trained medics.

They found Fai Dan, a short man of average build, standing just beyond the aft entrance to the freighter going over a manifest with a dark skinned, exotic looking woman. They both looked up when Shepard appeared, Dan with interest and the woman with a severe, mistrustful expression.

Fai Dan looked like the kind of man who had aged prematurely, and not necessarily because of the geth. Shepard had seen his type before. Dan was a colonist, in the truest sense of the word, a pioneer who looked out over the expanse of a savage, alien world and strode bravely into it. Shepard's father had been the same way. Without those kinds of men the Alliance would never have left Earth, but that unconquerable spirit was not without consequence. Shepard's father had looked the way Fai Dan did now, his young face carved with lines that should have been years away, skin parched and roughened by alien winds. Hannah Shepard had fought off the rigors of colonial life with corrective enhancements, never having fully embraced the pioneer life. She had worried incessantly, following Shepard's father to Mindoir out of sheer love. But her husband had embraced everything about Mindoir and the dangers that came with it, proud of the marks it left on him. Shepard wondered if somewhere away from the threat of the geth Dan felt the same way.

"I'm Commander Shepard," he said, offering his hand. "We're here to help."

Fai Dan took his hand, a bit reluctantly, a brief expression crossing his face that might have been a scowl. Shepard took note of it but did not comment.

"Is it just you?" the woman demanded. "You're all that was sent? After we lost six men just trying to send the distress call?"

"That's enough, Arcelia," Dan said tiredly. "We'll take all the help we can get." He offered Shepard a weak smile. "We're very glad to have you, Commander. David, thanks for your help. You can go back to your post."

Al Talaqani nodded and left. On his way back, he nearly ran into Wrex, who was exiting the freighter with Alenko, Liara and Garrus. Shepard could hear the collective suspension of breath as everyone took in the krogan. Wrex cast them all an irritated look, then stood aside and gestured for Al Talaqani to pass.

"You have an odd choice of companions, Commander," Dan said, his tone carefully neutral.

"Do you know why the geth are here?"

Dan shook his head, gaze still lingering on Wrex. "They hit the ExoGeni building first, then made their way here. I think they want control of the port. They keep hitting us from different points, every few hours. The last one was about two hours ago, so we're due again soon." He turned the full weight of his gaze to Shepard. For a moment the pioneer was gone, replaced by something pleading and desperate. "My men are tired, to the point of exhaustion. I don't think we can hold out much longer."

Shepard scanned the area quickly and carefully, with both his eyes and his omnitool. "Where are they coming from?"

Dan rubbed a thumb against the perspiration on his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. "Everywhere," he said with a sigh. "We've sealed off the skyway so they stop hitting us from there. It's the most direct route to ExoGeni, and they could hit us from above on the stairs. But they're also in the tunnels below. There are access points all over, many we didn't even know were there until the geth ambushed us." He gritted his teeth. "They shut off the aqueducts a few days ago. I think they're using them to move around. Our water supply is almost dry."

"This doesn't help us get Saren," Wrex interrupted, pushing forward to stand beside Shepard.

"Saren?" Dan asked, confusion crossing his features. "Who's Saren?"

Shepard exhaled through his nose. "He's a rouge Spectre, working with the geth. We came after the geth hoping to find him here."

"I knew they weren't here for us," Arcelia snapped, running a frustrated hand through her cropped dark hair. "Probably ExoGeni, protecting their damned investment!"

"I'm not with ExoGeni," Shepard said patiently, mentally swearing at Wrex for making things more complicated. "I need to find out why the geth are here, but I also mean to offer assistance."

Arcelia's baleful gaze did not soften, but Dan seemed beyond caring about motivation.

"The geth are here for something," Shepard prodded. "You help me figure out what they want, and I'll make sure you get all the help you need."

Dan and Arcelia exchanged glances, and again Shepard caught hint of an odd, shared reluctance. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he found himself calculating the speed at which he could draw and discharge his pistol.

"What authority do you have to promise us assistance, _Commander_," Arcelia scoffed, but there was less vitriol this time. She looked more like a woman realizing she was on the brink of defeat.

"More than you think," Shepard said quietly. "I'm a Council Spectre."

"Spectre?" she said, genuinely surprised this time. "A human Spectre?"

"Yes." He did not elaborate, and she did not ask.

Dan sighed heavily. "I don't know what the geth want from us. But whatever it is, you're more likely to find it at the ExoGeni building than you are here. That's where the drop ships are. But if you want to head there you're on your own. I've lost enough men."

Shepard nodded, though he didn't believe that Fai Dan was as clueless about the geth's intentions as he claimed. "I don't expect your help. Just tell me how to get there. We won't put any of your people in more danger."

Dan waved behind him, where the open atrium became a covered stairwell. "There's elevator access to the skyway from the upper levels. Before the geth came it was intact, but I don't know what shape it's in now. The access doors out of the garage are locked down, and I intend to keep them that way. If we open them to let you through, we'll lock them down behind you."

"Noted," Shepard replied. "Alenko, Liara. Stay here and do what you can to help the colony. The rest of you are with me." He activated his comm. "Joker!"

"_Aye, sir." _

"You and Pressly need to find a way to deploy the Mako. We're heading up the skyway."

* * *

Garrus folded inelegantly inside the cramped confines of the Mako, automatically taking the gunner's seat in the rear and swearing under his breath as his helmet scraped rudely against the ceiling. He had to bend his neck at a horrible angle just to give himself enough room to pull it off. There was a wall behind him separating the cab from the rest of the tank, which he discovered quite painfully when his skull crest collided with it as he leaned back. The human-designed tank was _not_ hospitable to turians.

"Trouble?" Williams asked from the row of perpendicular seats behind the cab that were designed for infantry deployment. Wrex settled in across from her.

"Fine," Garrus muttered, adjusting his posture as best he could. He hoped Dr. Chakwas knew something about realigning turian neck bones, because he was pretty sure he'd need it after this.

He could not help but notice how quickly the human strapped herself in, and recalled the relief on both Alenko and Liara's face when they realized they were being left behind. He, too, reached for his seat restraint.

Shepard had the wheel. Tali sat next to him updating the Mako's scanners with her latest geth intel.

"Dan, we're set and ready to go," Shepard said through the comm. "Open the doors."

Dan's reply came through bursts of static. "_Once y…ear the doors…..cations will be c….ff. Goo….ck."_

"Copy that," Shepard muttered, closing the channel.

Garrus gazed out of the Mako's slanted windshield as Shepard powered up the eezo core. The garage compartment was closed in by a heavy concrete door about 90 centimeters thick. Dan was right about one thing, once they got out they weren't getting back in by force.

"Tali, see anything on radar?"

She made a thoughtful sound that Garrus was beginning to learn was something she did while processing information. He heard it a lot in engineering. "Hard to get anything through those doors," she reported. "Too much interference. My guess is that we'll run into some trouble on the skyway. I just won't know how much until we get out there."

"Lovely," Williams muttered from the back.

Shepard cracked his knuckles, a disturbing sound that made Garrus shudder. "Garrus, get the guns ready."

Music to his ears. Garrus immediately began poking around the controls. He's been memorizing the specs almost as soon as he'd laid eyes on the Mako, and now on his very first spin he'd be manning the weapons' systems. Turreted 155m mass accelerator cannon, coaxial machine gun, laser detection arrays, and micro-thrusters for high maneuverability...it was enough to make him salivate. He'd already designed some software upgrades that would facilitate better communication between the nav and weapons systems for more accurate mobile targeting, but there hadn't been time to implement them yet. He established a link between the Mako's targeting system and transferred the data feed to his HUD, preening in satisfaction when the turret rotated in sync with his visor.

The concrete doors began to creep slowly open.

"Let's hope our little friend from Therum doesn't make another appearance," Williams said.

"I hope it does," Tali said, her voice taking on a steely tone Garrus hadn't heard before. "We have our own cannon this time."

Shepard eased the Mako forward through the widening doors. The ancient prothean skyway rolled away from them towards another behemoth tower – presumably their destination. The right side of the road curled gently to form a solid, concave wall that probably housed sentry and control stations. To the left however there was only a moderate lip between them and the dizzying plunge to the planet's surface. As the Mako rolled across the threshold onto the skyway Garrus's plates tightened, waiting for the concrete to disintegrate under their weight. It didn't. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

The Mako ground its way over the concrete, the scattered detritus making for a rough ride. When they cleared the tower Feros' angry winds lashed against the tank, forcing Shepard to abruptly adjust. Garrus' stomach plummeted to the vicinity of his feet.

Tali feverishly worked her haptic screen. "I see a drop ship," she reported. "It's…hmmm." Her head tilted left. "It's attached to the ExoGeni complex."

"Just one?" Shepard asked. "And what do you mean _attached_?"

She pointed at her screen. "I mean it's somehow latched onto the building itself. One is all I see for now. I'm still scanning." Her breath hitched slightly. "Shepard, I'm reading a pocket of geth up ahead." She glanced behind her in Williams' direction. "Armatures."

Instead of the cool retort Garrus expected, Williams' expression became downright devious. "All yours, Tali. Get the bastards."

"Garrus," Tali said. "I'm sending you some schematics we got on Therum. The armatures have vulnerable points near the leg joints and between the shoulder plates. Think you can hit them?"

"On it," Garrus said, accepting the data transfer. A visual of a geth armature sprang to life in his HUD, with indicators on the locations she'd mentioned. Garrus added the data to his targeting parameters.

"How much damage can this tank take?" Wrex rumbled.

Shepard grinned. "Plenty."

Garrus could see them now through the windshield, but kept his focus on his HUD. Two armatures were standing guard over the skyway, flanked by two squads of geth infantry and a single squad of rocket troopers. An alert from Tali brought his attention to a rifle team that had perched themselves at the top of the rampart on the skyway's right curve.

"They see us," Tali warned.

Garrus locked on to the armature with the cannon, honing in on one of the shoulder plates Tali had flagged. "Fire in the hole!"

A mass effect powered slug hummed through the air, striking the armature right in the cleft where its shoulder plate met the undercarriage. It buckled, swayed, feet splaying madly to keep from toppling.

A red flash appeared on Garrus' HUD. "Incoming!" he shouted.

The Mako slewed hard to the left. Shepard engaged the thrusters and propelled the tank upwards, literally jumping _above _the armature's projectile. When they hit the ground again the front two tires hooked over the edge of the skyway, filling the windshield with nothing but clouds. Garrus sucked in a breath and braced himself, one talon pressed against a wall, the other to the left of his seat. Every plate on his body locked tight, as if it would make a difference when they went spiraling over the edge into oblivion.

Shepard gunned the engine in reverse, and firm stone of the skyway replaced the sickening weave of the horizon.

The geth were still firing, hammering the Mako's shields with high impact charges that sent a crackling hiss through the emitters.

"Garrus, dammit, _shoot_ something!" Shepard shouted.

Garrus took in another breath, adrenaline still pumping madly through his body. The next round was ready to go in the cannon but the field was still recharging, so he swung the machine gun around and pumped bullets at the bipedal geth advancing towards them. Two rocket troopers toppled, and Tali uttered a victorious yell.

"Not yet, there's still two armatures shooting at us," Shepard said through clenched teeth.

Garrus switched his targeting information from the machine gun to the cannon, locked on to the damaged armature and fired. The round left the chamber with a whoosh, knocking the armature backwards into a hopeless tangle of legs, metal and sparking cables.

"One down!" he cried out, already back to the machine gun as the next round shunted into the chamber and began to charge. This time he zeroed on the snipers and chewed through their shields.

A klaxon wailed as the remaining armature fired again. This time Shepard jagged the Mako right, then hit the brakes and swung the front of the tank nearly 180° to keep from colliding with the wall.

"Garrus, how's that cannon charge?" Shepard demanded.

The high whine of the mass accelerator charge hit fever pitch. "Ready," Garrus called back.

"We're taking this thing down with one shot, got it?"

"Last one needed two," Garrus said tersely, looking for a better targeting solution but knowing he wouldn't find it if Tali hadn't.

"We're going to make it one," Shepard insisted. "Hit the machine gun. On my mark, fire the cannon. Maintain target lock no matter what."

Garrus'a mandibles flared. "Yes, sir."

Without warning Shepard accelerated sharply, tires squealing in protest. The Mako hurtled towards the remaining armature. Garrus' eyes widened when he realized what Shepard meant to do – take out as much of its shields as they could, deploying the cannon at the precise moment that would cause the most damage while not shredding themselves from the blowback in the process.

The machine gun sprayed bullets as Shepard weaved, trying to avoid target lock. Problem was that made it harder for Garrus to do the same thing. He stuck to it gamely, trying to anticipate Shepard's movements and surprised when it worked. As soon as they got back to the _Normandy _he vowed to find a way to speed up the servos controlling the coaxial gun so it could better keep up with his helmet feed.

With the gun still firing he geared up the cannon shot.

"Fire!" Shepard bellowed.

They were moving fast – too fast. The Mako's scope couldn't compensate quick enough, and for half a breath the extra magnification cost him his bearings.

"_Now!"_

The scope adjusted and Garrus jammed the fire button. The cannon boomed, blowing a hole right through the armature. Shrapnel sliced through the Mako's shields and one of Tali's screens immediately displayed a schematic of the tank with several forward hull plates started blinking red. The tank jolted as it rolled right over the armature's smoldering carcass, and Garrus' head struck the roof with a plate-rattling clatter.

"Negative contacts," Tali said breathlessly.

They coasted to a stop. Garrus slumped in his seat, exhaling fully. Shepard sat motionless just long enough for Garrus to panic before he finally exhaled and looked around. Tali had already set herself to running diagnostics on the damaged plating.

"Everyone all right?" Shepard asked. There was a chorus of nods. Garrus looked over his shoulder to see Williams and Wrex still in one piece, though the chief's normally peach-colored skin was now a pale, sickly white. Even Wrex looked a little queasy.

"Garrus, what happened?" Shepard asked, rolling his neck a little.

"Um, sorry sir. The scope got stuck."

"Wait a second." Shepard cocked his head to the side. "This thing has a _scope_?"

Garrus flicked a mandible, not sure if Shepard was making a joke at his expense. "Of course it has a scope. Why wouldn't it have a scope?"

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. Garrus settled back in his seat a little. Did he really know more about the Alliance tank than the Alliance CO? It made him kind of proud.

Garrus heard the click of a seat restraint, and suddenly Wrex's massive head pushed past him as the krogan muscled into the cab. "Do that again, Shepard, and I'll cut off your balls and feed them to the turian."

Garrus gulped. Shepard actually _grinned._

"Tali, are we still mobile?"

She made that sound again, the 'collating data' sound. "Front axle is damaged and shield capacity is at 63%," she reported. "But the repairs can wait. We need to get off this bridge."

"Agreed," Shepard muttered.

"There's a way station ahead," she said helpfully. "If the geth haven't taken control of it we can assess the damage better there."

Shepard put the Mako in drive again, glancing over his shoulder at Garrus. "Don't worry, buddy. You'll get it right next time."

Garrus' plates shifted indignantly. "Does the Mako have a scope," he muttered, shaking his head. He caught Shepard's grin reflected on the windshield.


	19. Chapter 19: Insolitus

**Chapter 19. Insolitus**

There was something strange going on in Zhu's Hope.

Kaidan wiped the sweat from his brow, squinting at the readouts on the aqueduct's access panel. "I still can't get remote access to the power core," he said, straightening up and leaning against the concrete tube with a frustrated sigh. "Every time I find a way past one firewall I run into another one." He massaged his neck, trying not to think about what the stiffness there was telling him.

Macha Doyle, the woman they'd met at the barricade, offered him a condescending smirk. "I told you."

Liara's eyes widened a little and she coughed quickly into her hand. Kaidan ground his teeth in an effort to hold his tongue. He considered getting on the comm and telling Joker to send a team out to collect the water rations they'd just unloaded and take them right back to the damn cargo bay. Never could he have imagined a group of people this desperate could be so _obstinate._

An offer of food rations from the _Normandy _had earned a scoff and declaration that the solution was temporary and therefore not helpful. The low level technician – the highest one still alive – in charge of the colony's power supply was completely uninterested in finding a way to adapt power cells from the _Normandy_ to be compatible with the colony's generators. It would take up too much time and resources, she'd said. It had taken a touch on the arm from Liara to keep from wringing her neck and screaming that they could just go on working in the dark and see if he cared.

The ticking clock in his head continued its countdown. In some ways he was glad he at least experienced a prodrome phase. It gave him time to prepare. The special cases when the migraines arrived unannounced was a special kind of hell. Only once had it happened in a shore party, when he was serving on the _Gallipoli. _They had boarded a ship that had been taken hostage by slavers. In the ensuing firefight a salarian had hit him with a neural shock, every nerve in his body seizing with an agonizing electrical burst. The explosion of pain had been bad enough, but before the effects had faded enough to even pick himself up off the floor his vision had already been punctured by the all too familiar scotoma, followed almost immediately by waves of pain even more extraordinary than he was accustomed to. It was not an experience he was anxious to repeat.

Still, while prodrome had some advantages, it was also like working with a noose slowly tightening around his neck. The constant dread of the inevitable made the wait excruciating, working every last nerve ending until it was exposed and raw.

Swallowing his anger he smiled thinly at Doyle. "I don't think it's prothean technology that's blocking us," he said. "My guess is that the geth have found the primary controls and shut down remote access."

Doyle crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow, her posture screaming a callous, _So?_

"If I can find primary access I might be able to bypass the blocks and get the water moving again," he said patiently.

The woman's features creased as the veneer cracked a little, momentarily allowing the panic to bleed through. "There are geth all over the tunnels," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "We can't go down there."

He took in a deep breath. Right now fighting the geth sounded like shore leave. "I'm not asking you to—"

"Lieutenant?"

Kaidan looked up to see the slender form of Dr. Chakwas standing before them, medical bag slung over her shoulder. Greta Reynolds, one of the colonists manning the barricade near the _Normandy,_ was with her as an escort.

"Thank God," Kaidan exhaled, glad for the distraction. "Excuse me," he said pointedly to Doyle. Her dismissive pretense had snapped back into place, and she waved him away. Greta said nothing and returned to the barricade.

Dr. Chakwas tilted her head in silent question, which Kaidan answered with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Stooping to grab the helmet resting at his feet he gestured for her to follow and headed towards the _Borealis_, the crashed freighter now serving as the colony's refuge. Liara came with them, glancing over her shoulder as though she expected someone to be following them.

"How are you?" Chakwas asked, scrutinizing him critically once they were out of earshot.

"Fine," he said irritably.

Chakwas narrowed her eyes. "Turn around."

"What?"

She sighed, affixing him with a look he usually only got from his mother. "I'm authorizing a medical override of your hardsuit and programming your medical interface to provide your triptan dose at onset," she explained.

Feeling somewhat sheepish, Kaidan obliged. A red medical cross flashed on his HUD as Chakwas unsealed the panel that provided access to the interface's microprocessor. "I've uploaded several of the scans I have on file to help the interface detect abnormal brain activity," she informed him. "Once it does, the dermal injector will administer the dose. Hopefully it will minimize the damage." She closed the panel, which resealed with an audible click.

"Thanks, Doc," he said, turning back around.

She gave him a knowing look. "Contrary to popular belief, doctors do usually have your best interests at heart. Now," she said, swiftly transitioning to the problem at hand. "I've inventoried blankets and basic medical supplies. Servicemen Pakti and Dubyansky are bringing them ashore as soon as they're assembled."

"Good luck," Kaidan replied. "They'll probably just tell you it's not as helpful as teaching them to make their own blankets."

She raised an austere eyebrow.

"This is a weird group, Doc," he explained. "It's like they don't want help."

That wasn't quite right. Of course they wanted help. But somehow by offering it they were intruding, like they'd committed some utterly taboo offense that no one was willing to speak up about.

Near the entrance to the freighter they came across a woman of Asian descent arguing with a salarian, one of the only non-human colonists in Zhu's Hope. He'd been introduced to Kaidan as Ledra, a merchant who'd originally arrived on the _Borealis._ Dan had tapped him to be the unwilling attaché between the colony and the _Normandy_, coordinating the supply delivery. He was a sour faced creature, even more so than the average salarian, and he was currently on the receiving end of a verbal beating from the woman. As they approached, she threw her hands up in disgust and walked away, but not before spotting Liara and giving her a long, hard look.

The salarian watched them sullenly, also Kaidan noted, seeming to take particular notice of Liara. And they weren't the only ones. It seemed several colonists had taken an interest in the presence of the asari scientist.

"What do you want?" Ledra demanded in a sharp, nasal voice.

Kaidan saw Chakwas' shoulders stiffen. "See?" he muttered. Then to the salarian, "This is Dr. Chakwas, our ship's doctor. She's here to help your wounded."

The salarian blinked, eyelids slicking shut from below, and his overlarge, dark eyes became wary. "Hollis is in charge of that. I just handle supplies."

Kaidan thought about asking him about the woman he'd been arguing with and if everyone was all right, decided it would be pointless, and just kept walking.

Inside the freighter cots had been set up for the wounded, though there were surprisingly few injuries to deal with. The geth shot to kill, and AIs didn't often miss. Hollis Blake, an elderly man who before the geth had worked on the now-destroyed hydroponics, served as the de facto medic.

"How can I help?" Chakwas said after introducing herself. "I have plenty of supplies at my disposal."

He shook his head, sitting down on an empty cot in the hallway. "Most of it's burns and lacerations right now. No need to trouble yourself, Doctor. I think I can handle it."

She pulled out a hand-held bioscanner. "If I were to guess, you've been running on nothing but stims for several days. Why don't you let me—" She stopped in surprise as Hollis reached out and closed a hand over the scanner, lowering it gently but forcefully. There was a thin smile on his face that made Kaidan's skin crawl.

"Of course, you're right. We're all tired. We just—"

A weak voice called out from a sealed room to their left. "Hollis?"

A pained look crossed his face. "Excuse me for a moment."

He clearly did not want them to follow when he opened the door, but Chakwas set her jaw, pushed a stray lock of her silver hair behind her ear and strode in after him. Kaidan was quickly learning she had a Shepard-like determination when it came to her patients. Anyone who could deal with Joker as readily as she could deserved recognition.

Inside the small room were more cots, one occupied by an older woman. Hollis knelt beside her, clasping one hand tenderly in his gnarled fingers. Chakwas, scanner still in hand, came up behind him.

"What do you need, dear?" Hollis asked.

"I can't—" She stopped suddenly when her gaze drifted to the newcomers, her expression filling with dismay. "Who are they?"

"They're here to help fight the geth, Calantha," he said gently.

Her eyes lingered on Liara, then came to rest on the scanner in Chakwas' hands. Hollis followed her gaze, his eyes widening when he saw it. He dropped Calantha's hand and reached for the scanner, which Chakwas held out of his reach. "I need to get accurate information in order to help her," she argued.

The woman cried out suddenly, face contorting in pain. Chakwas tried to shoulder past him, but to Kaidan's surprise she was rebuffed. Hollis was stronger than he looked.

"Please," he begged. "Leave us be. My wife will be fine. She just needs rest. The last attack was… hard for her."

"Hard how?" Liara asked, voice threaded with suspicion. "She does not appear to be physically injured."

The freighter shook. Calantha cried out again.

"Geth," Hollis said, voice filled with dread.

With a soft swear Kaidan turned away from the strange couple, swiftly donning his helmet and consulting his HUD. Liara did the same, corona flaring to life with a bright flicker. Angry red dots swarmed his combat scanner in the direction Shepard had taken. He drew his pistol.

"Stay here," he told Chakwas. The doctor nodded. The furrows on her brow deepened, but her expression remained calm. He signaled to Liara, and the two of them dashed down the _Borealis' _main corridor towards the aft exit. His amp hummed as he probed the negative pressure around him, arm rippling with biotic energy. Any display would only hasten the inevitable, but maybe, just maybe with the triptan dosage queued and ready, it wouldn't be so bad.

"Ready for this?" he asked the asari. After Agebinium he didn't doubt her capabilities, but it would be her first encounter with the geth after Therum.

She nodded, her expression grim.

Outside the _Borealis _Fai Dan and Marcelia were frantically gathering reinforcements near the barricades they'd established by stairwell. One colonist lay dead in a puddle of blood and gore, half his skull missing where a sniper bullet had turned the bone to shards of confetti.

Kaidan took cover beside Fai Dan, whose hands gripped a pistol with black scorch marks around the casing, signs of continuous, heedless overheat without proper cleaning and maintenance. He was willing to bet even the ammo block was dangerously low. Arcelia wasn't much better off. She had an ancient looking Lancer that looked like it might have come from the First Contact war.

The quick flash of several red lights danced along the barricade.

_Snipers!_

Kaidan barely had time to suck in a breath before Liara stepped forward out of cover, inhaling deeply and flexing her wrists. Her corona flared, so bright that for a moment he lost her silhouette inside of it entirely, before a wall of biotic energy surged from her like a tidal wave. It swept past them to the front of the barricade, where it solidified into a glistening, protective bubble. Seconds later four slugs clanged off with sharp clinks, each sending ripples through the blue sheen of the barrier like a stone thrown into a pond.

Kaidan had heard of asari protective spheres, but he had never seen one. The power they required was far above what even his L2 implant could provide, and he could only imagine the concentration and control it would take to maintain one. Liara, however, was doing it easily. Her expression was focused but untroubled, feet planted in a runner's stance with her hands stretched in front of her, blue energy weaving through her splayed fingers. This close to the spectacular display Kaidan's nerves sang, feeling the tumult in the gravity well the asari manipulated with ease.

There was no time to admire it, however.

"Everyone get down!" Kaidan barked, fishing a grenade out of his pouch and swiftly programming the charge. The stairwell where the geth were coming from was the same Shepard had used to reach the skyway, but if Kaidan were to guess it looked like they were coming from below rather than above. Fai Dan and Macha Doyle had mentioned tunnels, and earlier scans by his omnitool had indicated there was an entire network of them on the lower levels of the skyscraper.

He'd worry about how many were below them in a minute. For now he had to clean out the snipers that had migrated to higher ground. "Liara, can you draw them out of cover with a singularity?"

A tremor ran through the biotic field as her concentrations shifted, but it held. "I'll have to drop the barrier," she warned.

"Do it," he said tersely, hoping like hell he wouldn't regret it.

Liara closed her hands into fists and lowered her arms, collapsing the barrier inwards with a rush. But instead of dissipating completely the biotic energy condensed into a sphere cupped in the palm of her hand.

Kaidan pitched his grenade towards the stairs, aiming to create enough of a distraction to allow Liara to snare them with the vortex. It detonated with a shower of sparks that ricocheted off the dull, brown concrete of the stairs, searing across Kaidan's corneas in a coruscating pattern of light. He shut his eyes against the sudden pain. A tingle of dark energy pricked his skin as Liara's singularity field left her hand and sailed towards the geth. He forced his eyes back open in time to see the dark edges of the event horizon expand, swallowing light and greedily sucking in a tempest of dust, debris and geth. Three metal bodies dangled helplessly at the outer fringes of the field, one falling into the event horizon with a dissonant squeal. Kaidan summoned his own biotic field and aimed it at the heart of the singularity, just like he'd done on Agebinium.

Before he could let it go he staggered backwards as a slug hit him square in the chest, the impact sapping his shields with a sudden, seething hiss. He flew backward, breath driven from his lungs and pistol skittering across the ground. An alarm in his suit wailed, alerting him that his shields were completely down and unable to recharge.

He rolled over on his side, desperately sucking oxygen back into his lungs. Dimly he was aware of Liara running to him, and the red sight swinging to and fro before coming to rest on the back of her skull as she knelt down in front of him. With one arm he pushed her aside, executing a mnemonic that summoned a new well of dark energy. The geth saw the incoming danger and dropped the barrel of its rifle to evade. Kaidan grabbed Liara's pistol from her holster, summoned every ounce of processing power in his targeting software and fired, pegging the geth sniper right in the light orb of its face. He locked on to the other two still trapped in the singularity and fired twice more, hitting one in the neck and the other in the cowling of its chest. They both sputtered, spasmed and went limp, the singularity continuing to swirl them around until its core snapped closed and dropped them in a heap on the ground.

"Arcelia, get a team on this barricade," Dan yelled. "I want it strengthened, now! Get Hannah over here and see what else we can strip from the _Borealis_ to block that doorway."

"Lieutenant," Liara said anxiously, her blue eyes wide with panic. "Are you all right?"

Kaidan propped himself up on an elbow, focusing on drawing more air into his lungs. A quick consultation of his HUD showed his shield generator coming slowly back online. The slug hadn't breached his suit, though he had no doubt there would be a lovely black bruise in the center of his ribcage later.

"I'm ok," he rasped once he had enough air back to speak, berating himself for not checking his corners better. Getting target-fixed was an amateur mistake, one that his impending migraine didn't excuse. He handed her back her pistol, which she slid into her holster before offering her hand to help him up. He grimaced as he got back to his feet, searching the ground for his own weapon, which had come to rest about a meter away.

Fai Dan jogged over to join them. "That was a hell of a hit."

Kaidan grunted. "There's more still down in those tunnels," he said by way of reply. "I can see them on the scanner. We need to clear them out and seal off those tunnels."

Dan gestured helplessly. "We…don't know how."

Kaidan thumbed the catch on his faceplate, retracting it into his helmet with a soft snick, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "They're using the aqueducts," he said with effort. "Have to be. My guess is they've diverted the water so they can use them as access tunnels. Do you know where the master control unit is? I've made a few omnitool scans that might help me guess, but it will be easier if I can upload the colony maps."

"Hannah Murakami might," Dan said. "She's the last surviving crewmember of the _Borealis. _They did a lot of detailed scans for us a while back. I'll tell her to give you access to whatever you need. I just…can't offer men to accompany you."

"Alenko," Liara said quietly, "are you sure you should go down there? Maybe Dr. Chakwas should—"

"I'm _fine,_ dammit."

She clamped her mouth shut, and Kaidan immediately regretted his tone. With a glance at Fai Dan he took Liara by the arm and steered her away where they wouldn't be overheard. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

She returned his gaze but made no reply.

"I get…" he sighed, hating how weak what he was about to say made him sound. "You need to know something, because I think it's about to be really, really relevant."

"The medical condition you were discussing with Dr. Chakwas?" she asked.

He nodded, pulling his helmet off. A weak breeze wafted through his hair. Liara followed suit.

"I'm an L2 biotic," he explained. "The L2 implants were not…entirely successful in humans. We have better power output than the L3s, but there are tradeoffs, to put it kindly."

Her blue eyes reflected concern. "What kind of tradeoffs?"

"Varies," Kaidan replied. "In the grand scheme of things I got lucky. I only have to deal with migraines. They don't happen that often, but when they do…"

Liara nodded uneasily.

He put a hand to his temple. "I usually know they're coming. Lot of little symptoms. And right now I'm on the clock."

She nodded again, eyes widening a little.

"We need to get down there, clear these bastards out and secure the colony." _While I still can_, he added silently. Liara understood.

"I'll find out who Hannah is and get the maps we need," she replied. She spun on her heel and headed for Fai Dan, who Kaidan realized had been watching them.

Or was he watching Liara?

"Alenko to _Normandy,"_ Kaidan said into his comm, keeping his eye on the colony leader.

The pilot responded with his usual flippancy. "_What's up, Alenko? Enjoying babysitting the locals?"_

"Funny," Kaidan replied. "See if Pressly can make a few scans of the colony."

_Looking for what?"_

"I don't know. But something very weird is going on here."

"_That's…unhelpful."_

"Just see what you can do."

"_All right, fine."_

"Dr. T'Soni and I are going to try and solve a problem in the tunnels below the colony. I want an escort for Dr. Chakwas as long as she's here." Mentally he raced through the crew roster. "Send Dubyansky and Crosby. Any signs of trouble and they get her back to the _Normandy."_

"_You sound awfully commanding for someone who's not, you know. The commander."_

Kaidan rolled his eyes. "Then clear it with Pressly if you need to. Pretty sure he doesn't want to dig his CMO out from under a pile of geth and explain _that_ to Shepard."

There was a pause, which Kaidan interpreted as acquiescence. Then, "_Alenko, how weird are we talking about?"_

Kaidan glanced back over at Fai Dan, who was pointing Liara to the starboard side of the freighter. "Dunno. But let me know if you find anything. And if you find it while we're in those tunnels, just do what you have to do."

"_Look out for yourself, LT,"_ Joker said, with surprising concern for his welfare. "_We don't want to have to fish you out of a pile of geth and explain that to Shepard, either." _

"Noted," Kaidan replied. Though quite frankly, right now dealing with the colonists concerned him a hell of a lot more than dealing with the geth.


	20. Chapter 20: Arcana

**Chapter 20. Arcana**

"Spanner," Tali asked, holding her hand out and waiting for Garrus to drop the tool into her waiting palm. With one last tug she tightened a bolt over the makeshift seal she'd constructed out of omnigel, then replaced the paneling. "Think we're good to go." She slid out from underneath the Mako, where Garrus waited with a proffered hand to help her to her feet.

"Nice work," he said.

She brushed dust off her suit, noting a couple of oil stains on the fabric of her hood. Automatic suit checks revealed no signs of diffusion. Small favors, anyway.

"We'll have to take a closer look at that bearing when we get back to the ship, but the axle should hold." She glanced down the slope behind a barricade, where Shepard stood surrounded by ExoGeni survivors. One in particular gesticulated angrily, wearing a pinched, unhappy expression that looked like a natural state of being rather than a situational one. His name was Ethan Jeong, and he and Shepard had not gotten off on the right foot. Beside him, Juliana Baynham, the woman who had sent the distress call Tali had picked up, crossed her arms in front of her chest, jaw clenched in frustration. She was an older woman with tired looking skin but sharp, intelligent eyes that glinted a little every time Jeong spoke.

After escaping the ExoGeni headquarters, Jeong, Baynham and about a dozen ExoGeni scientists had bunkered down in a small warehouse room inside an ancient weigh station. After blockading the entrance with rubble and sealing the skyway doors, they had survived on whatever they could find in the seldom-used way point between Zhu's Hope and the ExoGeni building. But those supplies were running thin. From what Tali had gleaned Baynham had finally sent the distress call, apparently against the wishes of Jeong, and Tali still couldn't tell if they were happy to be rescued or not.

The scientists themselves were a disparate bunch, all human, wearing red and white uniforms with the ExoGeni logo emblazoned in black on their left shoulder. But that was where the similarities ended. Age, height, build, skin tone, facial structure, hair color and texture…the genetic variance of the human race exhausted her. She had noticed it on the _Normandy_, but to see it so clearly in even this small population took her a little off guard. Regardless of their differences, they were all weary, tired, dirty and desperate.

Not for the first time, the ingrained shame quarians had been trying to shake off for centuries swam near the surface. _Ultimately, we are responsible for this, _she thought_. We created the geth. We unleashed them on the galaxy. These people are suffering because of our failure._

There was no question the quarians had paid for their mistakes every day of their collective lives since being driven from Rannoch. The debt had been repaid tenfold, hundredfold. But the rest of the galaxy refused to forgive, and in moments like this, confronted by consequences, Tali understood why.

She followed Garrus down into the makeshift bunker and approached the commander, who faced Jeong with his arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes ripe with icy displeasure that lowered the temperature of the entire room. At the sight of Tali Shepard lifted his chin in silent question, while an oblivious Jeong continued vocalizing his objections to Shepard's plans to infiltrate the ExoGeni building. She nodded, and his irritation turned to grim satisfaction.

"The headquarters is off limits to non-ExoGeni personnel," Jeong declared.

Ashley Williams, standing to Shepard's left, burst out laughing. "Did you tell that to the geth? How'd they take it?"

Shepard gave her a withering look that clammed her mouth shut, but her eyes didn't lose one ounce of their amusement. Tali felt a spark of envy. One silent rebuke from her father was usually enough to upset her for days, but self-reproach did not appear to be a quality Williams possessed.

Jeong scowled. "My job is to protect corporate interests. And since I'm the only one left I'm damn well—"

"I'm not interested in ExoGeni's policy," Shepard interrupted, demeanor shifting from one of indifference to intense scrutiny. The scientist's eyes widened, for the first time showing a hint of intimidation.

"But why would you—"

"I'm here for the geth," Shepard continued, fixing Jeong with the full force of his gaze. "I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me what they might be after. If you hold out on me, you will not be happy to see me when I come back through here."

Jeong pressed his lips together in a thin line, though there was an uncertainty about him now that hadn't been there a minute ago. Tali watched as he summoned up every last shred of his nerve to speak. "I don't know why they're here," he declared. "But if I find you've tampered with company property, you can rest assured ExoGeni will hear about it."

Shepard's eyes never left Jeong's face, letting an uncomfortable silence hang in the air before responding. "I don't give a damn about ExoGeni. I'm a Council Spectre. My jurisdiction exceeds theirs by depths you can't even fathom."

Jeong cringed.

Shepard turned to walk away. Baynham touched his arm, an anxious look on her face. Shepard's cold expression vanished immediately. At her request Shepard followed her off to the side, where she clutched his arm and whispered frantically.

"Amazing how people this close to the brink can be so damn picky about help," Williams observed with a roll of her eyes. "Pretty sure if the geth had me backed into a corner like this I'd kiss whoever showed up to do something about it right on the mouth." She flicked some dust off her hardsuit. "Besides, it's not like ExoGeni is coming to rescue their sorry asses. If _they_ don't care enough about their investment, why the hell should these people?"

Wrex, who had been standing apart from the others throughout Shepard's conversation, snorted. "Jeong is weak," he replied. "Someone put him in charge of something, so he believed he had power. The geth did everyone a favor by relieving him of it."

"I was going to guess small penis," Williams commented.

Tali felt a flush in her cheeks, but Wrex chortled. "He can't match Shepard in battle, so he thinks he can regain his status by outwitting him. Shepard should eat him."

Garrus blanched. "That might be a little extreme."

Wrex shrugged, his massive shoulders making the simple gesture seem more like a shift in tectonic plates.

"Everyone back to the Mako," Shepard called to them. "We're moving out."

"Finally," Wrex rumbled.

Williams, however, hung back. "Hey, Skipper. Can I have a go at the wheel?"

"Not a chance, Williams," Shepard replied, already headed for the barricade.

She sighed. "I can almost handle putting my life in the hands of a batshit crazy CO with a death wish behind the wheel. But I'm not sure I can handle Alenko's shit-eating I told you so when we get back."

* * *

The geth dropship still clung ominously to the ExoGeni complex when they returned to the skyway, each spindly "leg" puncturing the building's thick shell at a different point. Black smoke wafted from fresh rents in the ancient concrete. This skyscraper was taller and even sturdier than the one used by Zhu's Hope, but it hadn't been enough to stop the geth. Shepard ground the Mako to a stop about a kilometer away.

"What's it doing?" he asked, glancing sideways at Tali. She craned her neck a little, searching for some significance in the anchor points. The power readings from the ship itself were off the charts. She was dying to do a more invasive scan, see if she could hack through some of the firewalls the geth had erected and see what they were up to. But doing so would certainly attract attention they didn't want.

"If I were to guess," she said slowly, "and it's just a guess, I'd say they were using the ship to somehow directly interface with ExoGeni's systems. If they have extensive databases it might be more than the geth platforms are able to disseminate. But if they could do a core dump to the ship, they have all the processing power they need."

"How do we stop it?" he asked, peering out the windshield.

"We'd need some way to disrupt the connection."

Williams spoke up from the back. "Have Joker blow them to hell," she suggested. "Precision strike and they're history."

"Along with whatever data they're after," Garrus pointed out. "We'd never know what they were looking for."

"Agreed," Shepard said, still studying the drop ship. He shifted the tank back into gear and began to creep forward again. "One of the scientists, Hossle I think his name was, gave me a map to a basement entrance that might let us infiltrate without attracting a lot of attention. We need to disable that ship and figure out what the hell ExoGeni was really doing here. Somehow I doubt it was just studying ruins."

"Let me guess," Garrus said. "He wanted a favor in return."

"Hey, Garrus. You're catching on."

"Fantastic," the turian replied. "We're risking our live against the geth, but please, let us know what errands you need run."

Shepard smiled into the windshield. "If it means enough credits to upgrade my assault rifle, I don't mind a little salvage along the way."

They encountered another armature and a handful of ground troops before reaching their destination, but this time they were more easily dealt with. Tali smiled in deep satisfaction as the armature crunched under the tread of the tank's thick tires.

The geth had done little to fortify the building, either not expecting resistance or assigning greater priority to the data and restricting the units they could spare to protect their position.

The garage Shepard guided them to was an expansive space with low, claustrophobic ceilings, badly damaged in the attack but more or less intact. Several vehicles with the ExoGeni logo painted on the sides were strewn about in mangled heaps, some overturned, others burnt out down to the frame. None were serviceable. No wonder the scientists hadn't gotten far.

"What do you see?" Shepard asked.

Tali lowered her chin as she scanned the immediate area, glad he couldn't see her expression. No one had ever relied on her to assess a situation. Even Keenah had preferred to consult his own numbers. "There's some kind of energy field blocking the sensors," she said. "The basement looks clear, but I can't see beyond that."

Shepard released his seat restraints with a click and opened the hatch. The sudden change in air pressure immediately pressed against her suit. As she climbed out and leaped nimbly down beside Shepard her atmospheric circulators began to whir, filtering particulates out of the breathable air before sending it through the sterilization protocols. It was stagnant and still in here, the acrid scent of burnt metal still lingering heavily.

Outside the confines of the Mako her suit mini-frame took over her scans, trying to identify the energy source blocking them. She activated her omnitool to facilitate the process.

"Over here," she said, pointing towards the far wall of the structure.

A low growl from the shadows brought Tali's attention around with a snap, suit sensors automatically screening for threats. The crack of a rifle echoed throughout the rubble. A few meters ahead of them a four-legged shape flopped to the ground, light glinting off two razor sharp canines curving upward from the bottom of its jaw over the creature's upper lip. She looked over her shoulder to see Garrus lowering his rifle.

"Varren," he said, subharmonics flanging in distaste. "Wonder how the hell they wound up here."

Wrex stirred, his hard, red eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. "There's another krogan here," he said with a low growl. "I can smell him."

"Come on," Shepard said. "We need to find a way inside."

It was easier said than done. A bright, pulsating energy field spanned the entrance to the facility, blocking their path. Tali skimmed her omnitool, fingers flashing over the haptic keys. The energy output was off the scale. _Jaxa would love to see these specs, _she thought to herself, then had to suppress a gleeful laugh. Her old classmate had scoffed at Tali's plans for her Pilgrimage, thinking he would have a much better time exploring the Hourglass Nebula. Now here she was, studying geth technology that could very possibly be adapted for use within the fleet, while he was probably scanning asteroid belts in Faryar for salvage.

She felt Shepard's gaze, and came to realize they were all waiting expectantly. "Well…now we know what they're using the ship for," she said. "Or at least one thing they're using it for. This field is drawing its power right from their drive core. It's quite brilliant, actually. They're using a feedback loop to funnel enough energy to form this barrier. It essentially allows them to seal off whatever they want."

Williams patted the grenade pouch on her hip. "We can always try and blast our way through."

Tali shook her head. "Even if we combined all of our firepower, we wouldn't make a dent in that field. Only way to take it down would be to disable the ship's core, or sever the connection. Which we can't do from out here."

Shepard wandered away from them, investigating the nearby area. After a moment he called out, waving them over. "If we can't get through it, why not go under?"

Tali glimpsed a utility corridor through a crevice in the ground where the ground had collapsed, unguarded by the energy field.

"Hossle said this basement was the lowest level ExoGeni had made habitable," Shepard said. "But obviously there's plenty of levels below it." He looked at Wrex with satisfaction. "Just like Therum, only less brute force."

"That's a long drop," Williams observed, peering into the darkness below. "We go down, we're probably not coming back up until we figure out how to drop that field."

"Then I guess we better get on with it." Without another word Shepard sat, swung his legs over the edge and dropped down into the hole. The flashlight built into his helmet flicked on, knifing through the darkness with a bright gleam.

The impact of the krogan's weight on the floor below reverberated through Tali's feet. "If we can't defeat the geth and destroy that ship we don't deserve to get out."

"Eloquent bastard, isn't he?" Williams commented. Tali exchanged glances with Garrus. The gunnery chief shrugged, then followed suit.

"After you," Garrus said with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

A cloud of dust sprang up under Tali's boots as she landed. Her own headlamp clicked on automatically, bouncing off the narrow walls of the ancient corridor and revealing crumbled stone riddled with fissures. Here the air was so old and forgotten that even her air toxicity monitors were nearly quiet.

Her omnitool began sending out radio waves to create some semblance of a map of their surroundings. The corridor appeared to be narrow and long but fairly straight, with few offshoots until they got farther ahead.

"There might be an exit to the next level ahead," she said, pointing. Then she frowned. "Commander…I might be picking up life signs."

"Survivors?" Shepard asked sharply.

Tali nodded. Omnitool still out she proceeded down the corridor, searching for a doorway to the right. Radar scans indicated some kind of space ahead. Not another passageway, but perhaps a storage room. She came to a stop in front of the crumbled remains of a door. Loose debris had been piled in front of it, the dust disturbed by the blurred smudge of handprints. Shepard glanced at Wrex, and the two immediately began shifting rubble aside. Dismayed gasps on the other side made Tali's heart clench. She remembered hiding from Jacobus deep in the bowls of the Citadel, how terribly, uncannily still Keenah's chest became after that last breath…the overwhelming fear of being discovered alone. She shuddered.

The krogan succeeded in tossing the largest piece of rock aside. The lights from their helmets fell on three humans, all wearing the same ExoGeni uniforms as the scientists on the skyway, though the repeated stain of constant use had worn the white cloth muddy brown. Wide eyes looked out at them from faces streaked with sweat and grime. The alcove they'd taken shelter in was tiny and cramped, no bigger than a closet, and it reeked of urine.

"It's all right," Shepard said, snapping into action and swiftly helping a young woman to her feet. "We're here to help."

Upon seeing that he wasn't a geth, the woman, who hardly looked older than Tali, choked out a cry of relief and wrapped her arms around the commander's neck. To Tali's mild surprise he hugged her right back. Something raw burned hot in his blue eyes, one hand cradled the back of her head and held her like a parent comforting a child.

"You're safe," he whispered, in the tone of someone who understood what it was like to wonder if rescue was coming.

The other two humans were male, both older, but both just as shaken. "Thank Christ, I thought we were dead," one of them said, trembling.

Shepard separated himself from the girl long enough to get a look at her face, but kept one hand on her shoulder. She gripped his wrist as though afraid he might vanish if she let go. "Are you Lizbeth Baynham?" he asked.

Her eyes widened in shock. "How-?"

"Your mother's alive," Shepard told her. "She asked me to look for you."

The girl laughed, eyes wet with joy. "Where! Where is she?"

"In a security bunker off the highway," Shepard replied. "I'd take you to her, but we have to disable this field first. We can't get out the same way we got in. I hate to say it, but you may have to stay here a little longer."

She bit her lip.

"What happened?" Williams asked. She too had abandoned her usual irreverence in favor of sympathy, a side of her Tali hadn't seen before.

Lizbeth took a deep breath. "The geth showed up," she faltered. "Everyone started to evacuate but we…" she shook her head. "We stayed behind to back up data. So _stupid._"

"The power went out," one of the men said. "We dropped everything and ran. There were seven of us then. That barrier…we couldn't get out, so the geth just picked us off one by one. Until Lizbeth found the door down to this level. She saved our lives."

"Do you know why they attacked?" Shepard asked, turning his full attention back to the girl.

The three of them exchanged uneasy glances. "We don't know," one of the men responded.

Some of the compassion left Shepard's face, replaced by something hard. Lizbeth dropped her hand and clasped it behind her back, looking at her feet.

"I think—" she started, before being shushed by one of her colleagues. Her posture straightened like someone had doused her with cold water. "Oh, get off it, Dorian," she snapped. "It's not like ExoGeni has come for us. If they don't care whether we live or die, I don't exactly need to protect their secrets anymore."

"What is it?" Shepard demanded. "What were they doing here?"

"The thorian," she said, and the man she'd called Dorian groaned. Lizbeth shot him a look.

"What's a thorian?" Williams asked, wrinkling her nose.

"An indigenous life form we found on Feros," Lizbeth replied, some of her anxiety fading into excitement. "We're not even sure how to classify it. No one's ever seen anything like it."

"What do the geth want with it?" Wrex said.

"Don't know," Dorian cut in. "There's not a whole lot we can tell you about it."

Williams rolled her eyes. "Because you don't know or because your priorities are really, really screwed up?"

"Probably both," Garrus said dryly.

"Doesn't change anything," Shepard said, glancing around at them. "But at least we might know what they're after. Now we just have to find out why." He turned back to Lizbeth. "You need to stay here until we sort this out. We'll make sure the geth don't find you."

Fear crept back into her face. Shepard placed his hands on her shoulders. "We're coming back for you. I _promise_." He lifted her chin with one finger. "I'm getting you out of here."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Here," she said suddenly, digging in a pocket and offering Shepard a card the size of her palm. "My entry key. This should get you access to the labs, whatever you want."

Shepard took the passkey with a smile and thanks, then signaled to the rest to keep going.

Once they were clear of the alcove Wrex snorted. "If they can't fend for themselves they're of no use to us. Coming back for them is a waste of time."

Shepard did not turn his head. "It's our job to protect those who can't protect themselves," he replied.

"That's what makes your race weak."

"That's what makes us strong," Shepard shot back.

The citadel had taught Tali most people _didn't_ look out for those who couldn't protect themselves. In her experience those who did were the ones who had at one point another sat on both sides of the fence.

She watched Shepard's back, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself against the weight of a setting sun.

And wondered.

* * *

The tunnels under Zhu's Hope were damp, cold and claustrophobic, but at least they were well lit. Liara followed Lt. Alenko gingerly down the steep, narrow staircase, one hand trailing against the wall for balance. The old stone was cracked and porous to touch, and her fingers left behind streaks in the centuries old residue coating the walls like moss. A moldy, cloying smell filled her nostrils. Other than the quiet patter of their footfalls the only sound was the staccato drip of water echoing about them.

She tried to imagine it at the height of prothean civilization, healed and whole, the steps polished and smoothed by the constant flow of alien feet. What kind of people had they been? Kind, curious, ruthless, driven? Whatever they were, surely that had not seen the fate that rushed towards them at terminal velocity.

_This cannot happen to us_, she thought. _Mother, what have you done? How could you be part of this?_

Not only was she part of it, but she had landed Liara right in the middle of it, forced to choose whether to protect her mother or hunt her down like a dog. She had chosen the hunt, but dared not think about what that might mean if they came face to face. She possessed little of her mother's pride and strength.

_You cannot show weakness among friends or enemies_, Benezia had told her once, after she had cried in front of Eirene Delunne and Moire Tannis, daughters of Benezia's compatriots who Liara had hated growing up. _It doesn't matter what you feel – it matters what they see._

_What about you?_ Liara had asked, wiping away tears on the back of her hand. Benezia had been wearing yellow that day, all Liara's memories of Benezia involved yellow, and she had woven gardessa flowers from the garden through her headdress. _Can I cry in front of you?_

Benezia had smiled, rubbing her thumb against the dampness of Liara's cheek. _You are my Little Wing. I know what's inside you even when you don't._

The words had made Liara feel better, but it wasn't until much later she realized her mother had not actually answered the question. Could it be Benezia was afraid now, trapped by Saren but unwilling to show the weakness she so abhorred? She wouldn't know until she found her.

Liara was familiar enough with her mother's associates to make a few inquiries, but by the time they had arrived on Feros none had yielded results. Shepard had allocated her all the bandwidth she needed, but no one would speak with her. Her messages went unreturned, calls unanswered. Liara had underestimated the loyalty her mother commanded, even in light of her new, unsavory allegiances.

Something flashed on her HUD, snapping her focus back to the present.

"Looks like central control for the aqueduct is due east," Alenko said. His walked with a slightly stilted gait, left foot even dragging ever so slightly. His expression was weary, eyes lacking the razor sharp focus she'd seen on Agebinium. There was something resigned in his voice, his earlier agitation fading slowly into surrender.

If she looked close she could see a small scar peeking out from under his thick, dark hair, not far above the amp plugged in to the back of his neck. Without the metal in his brain that amp would be useless. She rubbed a thumb over the back of her own amp. Asari didn't need the help of an implant. The ability to control their own nervous system was a genetic trait mastered with practice. But biotics were still new to humans. They were still on the steep side of the learning curve, and from the sounds of it they had made costly mistakes.

Alenko was talented, though. Perhaps he lacked the power of most asari, but he made up for it with careful, calculated control that played off his strengths, something he'd earned through hard, painstaking work.

Alenko held her up short when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The passage turned to the right, hidden from view. "There's geth ahead," he said quietly, examining his scanner. "And something else." He cocked his head to the side. "Looks human."

"A colonist?" she asked.

"We're about to find out."

Alenko stepped inside the tunnel, pistol drawn. The space was wider than she expected, and easily tall enough to accommodate them side by side. The dry aqueduct ran along their left hand side.

To her astonishment a human strolled nonchalantly towards them, humming to himself as a strange smile played across his face. He was of moderate build, with close set eyes and dark hair, unarmed and inexplicably unconcerned. According to her combat scanner the geth were only a few dozen meters down the tunnel, but if the man was aware of them he gave no sign.

"Stop," Alenko called out, pistol still aimed. She half expected him to keep walking, but he obediently came to a halt about a meter away.

"Pleasant day for a stroll," he said.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Alenko demanded.

"Nothing I should," he replied, a grin exposing rows of straight, white teeth, "and a few things I shouldn't."

Before either of them could reply he hit his knees with a shriek of pain. Alenko jumped forward to help him, but pulled up short when his cries dissolved into crazed laughter.

"Oh," he sighed, getting unsteadily back to his feet. "That was a good one."

Liara stared in disbelief. Alenko tightened his grip on his pistol, jaw working. "What's the hell is the matter with you?" he said finally.

The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just invoking the master's whip," he said, an unsettling light glimmering in the back of his eyes. "It helps remind me I'm still alive."

"Who are you?" Alenko demanded.

"Ian Newstead," the man replied cheerfully, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. He wore a nondescript jumper like the other Zhu's Hope colonists, with no visible injuries.

A cautionary blue flare circled Liara's fingers. "You need help."

Newstead held up one finger, wagging it back and forth. "You don't want to go down there," he replied in a singsong voice. "You're not the only ones interested in those…things."

"The geth?" Alenko asked cautiously. Newstead took a step forward. The sight of Alenko's pistol followed him with a jerk.

"Not looking for," Newstead informed him, unfazed by the gun pointed at his head. "Looking to get rid of. They're a thorn in the side of…" He doubled over as though he'd been stabbed in the gut, gasping for air and gritting his teeth. "They're trying to get to the—" He screeched in pain as Alenko and Liara looked on in horror, until once again his screams dissolved into maniacal laughter that echoed up and down the tunnel.

"I don't think there's anything we can do for him," Liara said anxiously. "He's going to draw the geth right to us!"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, doctor," Alenko replied, expression grim.

Newstead gave them a pitying look. "The geth have set up camp in an alcove past the aqueduct access. They're using a portable transmitter to communicate. If you destroy them, the—" he gasped again as another spasm took over, "—will be very—"

This time his scream was bloodcurdling, eyes rolling back into his head. Alenko actually backed away, shielding Liara with a forearm.

"…grateful," Newstead finished once the episode had passed.

Alenko grabbed Liara and pulled her quickly past the deranged colonist, never relaxing his grip on his pistol. As they hurried away she could still hear his laughter echoing behind them. Liara, nerves fraying dangerously, came to a halt. "What is going on here?" she begged, not at all comforted to see Alenko's expression mirrored her own.

"I don't know," he said, "but we need to destroy this transmitter and get the _hell_ out."


	21. Chapter 21: Pestilentia

**Chapter 21. Pestilentia**

Kaidan's arm dropped wearily to his side as the last geth fell, blue aura vanishing abruptly along with the rest of his strength. With a half stumble he sagged against the wall and closed his eyes to still the sudden vertigo threatening to turn the world upside down. A cruel, angry throbbing had closed over his left temple like a vice.

Liara's hand pressed against his back, the gentle touch still enough to make his teeth grind. "Lieutenant. Are you ok? What can I do?"

"Nothing," he mumbled with effort, loathe to open his eyes. He'd felt the prick of the dermal injector in the back of his neck during the firefight, for all the good it had done. While the trek back through the tunnel and up the long staircase was in reality not far, right now it seemed about as possible as traveling from Earth to Arcturus in nothing but an EVA suit. And they still had to reactivate the aqueduct. He wanted silence and a very dark room, neither of which were options for the foreseeable future.

He braced himself against the wall as another wave of nausea swept over him. With each incessant throb an icepick drove deeper and deeper into his skull, an exquisite agony that he had never been able to adequately relate to those who sympathized but didn't really understand what it felt like to be so utterly betrayed by your own body.

In moments like this he wanted to dig the implant out of his skull with his bare hands. To hell with the people who told him he was lucky, to hell with being thankful that the men in white suits hadn't come for him in the middle of the night, or that he hadn't woken up one morning and decided to gleefully murder everyone in sight because the L2 wires in his brain fried his sanity to a crisp. If living in fear that one day the metal chip in his head would one day make him snap wasn't enough, he was somehow expected to swallow this agony with a smile and some unfathomable appreciation that this was as bad as it got. As if wanting to blow your own head off was some kind of _gift_.

He forced his eyes open against the searing glare of the lamps strung up around the now-dormant transmitter. Crazy as Ian Newstead had seemed, he had been right. The geth had been using it to coordinate their attacks. By disabling it, and hopefully reinitializing water flow through the aqueduct, they would essentially eliminate the immediate threat to Zhu's Hope.

The telltale scotoma had appeared during the first barrage, and his last biotic exertion had sent him spiraling over the edge.

Though there had been a few terrifying moments when his biotics wouldn't respond at all. One of the little frog-like units had sprung from a pillar and detonated some kind of ECM field point blank at his chest. Once the agony in his brain had passed its crescendo and the halos of light had subsided enough to get his vision back, he'd raised an arm to counter and…nothing.

If his goddamn head didn't hurt so goddamn much he would care a little more.

Liara slipped his right arm around her shoulders. He wanted to push her off, save himself the embarrassment of needing assistance just to walk, but his equilibrium had taken a nosedive right off a cliff. A black, spinning penny twirled at the edge of his vision, expanding and contracting with each pulsation. Her slender presence was somehow reassuring.

"Let's go," she said, voice threaded with worry.

"No," he managed, pointing towards the aqueduct. "We finish the mission." If they left the aqueduct deactivated, everything they'd just done might be in vain. He wasn't taking that chance.

Sweat dripped down his nose as they walked, one laborious step after another. His limbs felt like lead, every movement jamming the ice pick deeper, sending ripples of pain through his extremities. When they reached the aqueduct control station he stopped, once again feeling out a wall for support. Closing his eyes once more, he sought out some momentary reprieve that might let him get the job done.

He heard Liara bring the panel to life with a whine that grated his ears. "I think I can do it," she said, sounding surprisingly calm and assured. "Doyle gave us the schematics she had, and I've had a little of my own experience with this kind of thing before."

More nausea. He doubled over, this time unable to ride it out, and vomited up the energy bar he'd eaten before their descent into the tunnels. Liara made a small noise of distress but kept working. For half a moment his head felt better, though his quivering insides and the sour taste of bile in his throat detracted a little from his relief.

"I've reset the lockout controls," Liara reported. "We should be able to achieve remote access from the colony. Now I just have to deactivate the blocks…"

Kaidan forced himself back to his feet, taking a moment to try and still his swimming vision. "Here," he croaked, motioning for her to move aside. She did so reluctantly, face clearly revealing her lack of confidence in his motor skills.

The lights from the panel tap danced across his already tortured skull, but the quicker he could get it done the quicker they could get back. He let his subconscious take over – he'd isolated the correct protocols before leaving the colony and committed them to memory – deactivating each block one by one.

At first only a trickle dribbled down the tube. But soon enough the trickle became a torrent, water churning back through the ancient system with a tempestuous gurgle. He exhaled, put a useless hand to his temple and wavered slightly on his feet.

"We're almost there, lieutenant," Liara reassured him, once again offering him assistance.

"How long…Shepard been gone?" he said with effort.

Liara tilted her chin as she considered the question. "Few hours, at least. Why?"

"Need you t'do something." He raised his wrist and called up his omnitool, wincing at the orange glow, so _bright_ against the dim lighting. "Decryption key for the colony mainframe. Have to upload it."

"Decryption key?" she asked. "What for?"

He didn't get a chance to answer. Joker's voice filtered through the comm.

"_Lieutenant! Jesus, Alenko, you better be there."_

The roar of static that accompanied the transmission made him hiss through his teeth. "What," he snapped in reply.

"_You told us to look for something weird," _the pilot replied, unperturbed. _"Well, I got something for ya. There's something underneath the colony. Something big. Something alive. And I get the impression from the doc that whatever it is, the colonists really don't want us to know." _

"Where's Chakwas?" Kaidan demanded. "She with you?"

"_Pressly called her back onboard as soon as he picked it up. We're locked up tight in here until we get further orders. Pressly wants you to check it out." _

Liara looked like she was ready to argue, but Kaidan stopped her. "On our way," he replied, fighting off another wave of dizziness.

The asari frowned. "You're in no shape for this. We need to get you medical attention."

He shook his head, wanting to explain with the fewest possibly syllables. "Doc's done all she can. Mission comes first. Have to figure out what's going on to warn Shepard."

When she didn't respond he gripped her arm. "The mission _always_ comes first."

Eventually she nodded. Once again they resumed their painful trek, one step at a time.

* * *

Wrex smelled the krogan long before they heard him. From the bottom of a long stair they heard his angry grumbling echoing above their heads, but Wrex's hackles were already up. He clutched his shotgun in a restless grip. Too much creeping. Too much sneaking around. His blood burned, aching for combat. The moment that scent hit his nostrils he felt a clutch of rage settle in his chest. The krogan at the top of the stairs was already dead – he just didn't know it yet.

He understood the mercenaries. He understood the pirates. The genophage had driven the krogan to the brink of desperation – with no hope for their future they had defaulted to whatever aggression they could embroil themselves in. If they could not conquer they could at least fight, dreaming of the days when Kredak, Shiagur and Moro had stood tall and bellowed in victory.

But Saren had shackled his people to _machines_. While honor was hardly a krogan virtue, anyone who would waste themselves fighting with the scrap metal they'd found on Therum deserved to die.

His own kind, serving that _chutak_ turian. Years ago the turian Spectre had hired him and a crew of mercenaries to raid a volus cargo ship. His name had meant nothing to Wrex then – he was just another bald faced turian with an overabundance of superiority and the credits to back it up. The slender side bones lent him a cold, cunning look, but that wasn't what had piqued Wrex's attention. Something about that turian just smelled _wrong, _wrong enough for Wrex to walk away from the contract. It had been a lot of credits, but credits weren't much good if you were dead, and Wrex had growing suspicion that if he went through with it he'd never get his chance to collect. And he'd been right. Every merc on Saren's payroll had wound up dead.

His nose never lied.

At a wordless nod from Shepard Wrex lunged up the stairs, shotgun swinging in his hands. The amp planted to the base of his skull roared to life as he summoned his barrier.

The few krogan biotics in the galaxy did not turn their skills to art like the asari, finesse them like the drell, or fear them like the humans. Battlemasters used dark energy with raw, brute force, like wading through a fire without fear of being burned. As his corona roiled around him, humming with agitation, something primal inside him stirred.

The unsuspecting krogan at the top of the stairs had his back turned as he argued with a VI terminal. By the time he realized his peril it was too late. Wrex loosed a warp field that chewed through the ablative coating of his armor, emptied the chamber of his shotgun into his chest, then barreled into him with terrifying force, pinning him against the wall behind the VI. Blood spouted from holes the shotgun had bored through his suit and Wrex exploited them, digging his fingers into the rents and gouging at the flesh exposed beneath the armor. The other krogan bellowed in rage and pain. Wrex responded by driving his crest into the krogan's face. The krogan reeled, giving Wrex enough time to shunt another round into the shotgun chamber and finish the job.

By the time the others reached the top of the stairs Wrex stood in a growing pool of golden blood and neuroconductive fluid. He wiped some of the cruor off his face. The turian's mandibles fluttered with shock, the Williams-human whistled. Shepard merely nodded.

"Good work." He stepped over the corpse to access the VI, tilting his head in curiosity. The holographic projection, humanoid in shape with vague, indistinguishable features, flickered for a moment but offered a greeting.

"ExoGeni Corporation would like to remind all staff that the discharge of weapons on company property is strictly prohibited," it said pleasantly.

"Noted," Shepard said.

"Welcome back, Research Assistant Baynham."

Shepard looked down at the card the female had handed him. "Um. Thanks."

Wrex rumbled a little in disgust. "You could scour the ruins of Tuchanka for a lifetime and never find a dammed VI interface. Useless machine."

"Oh, and I'm sure it's because of your commitment to customer service and has nothing to do with your propensity to solve problems with a hammer instead of an omnitool," the turian said.

Wrex blinked, unable to conceal his surprise. A long moment of expectant silence followed. Even the turian shrank himself ever so slightly, as though to brace himself for the rebuke. The krogan sighed. "Of course I get stuck with the one turian in the galaxy who thinks he's funny," he said at last. Williams snickered. Garrus' mandible quivered.

Shepard spared them only half a glance. "What was the previous user looking for?"

The VI flickered again, followed by a subtle clicking sound as it rummaged for the requested data. "The previous user requested information on Species 37. However he lacked the proper clearance to access this database."

The Williams-human leaned towards the quarian. "Think that means the thorian?"

"Tell me," Shepard demanded.

Again came the brief distortion of light as the VI ran the clearance checks and processed the request. "Species 37 is categorized as a plant-like life form demonstrating sentience not found in other local flora."

The quarian gasped a little. "Sentience?"

Shepard shushed her with a wave of his hand.

"Lifespan of the creature is not available," the VI continued. "However current data tracking the rate of growth verses existing mass indicates that it may have survived undisturbed for hundreds of thousands of years."

Wrex stirred. They called that a lifespan? Millennia spent growing and rooting in this darkened, decaying pit while the rest of the galaxy rolled past, completely impervious to your existence? That didn't sound like living. Say what you would about the krogan – they didn't take living passively.

Shepard scowled, absently rubbing his chin. "If it's that old, it might predate the protheans. No wonder Saren wanted to investigate it. Where is the thorian now?"

"Fetching data," the VI replied. Wrex's fists curled, resisting the urge to strangle its non-existent neck. "The current status of the thorian is out of date. All sensors at the Zhu's Hope observation post have been inactive for several cycles."

"What does Zhu's Hope have to do with the thorian?" Shepard demanded.

"Species 37 is located within the substructure of the Zhu's Hope outpost," the machine reported blissfully. "Before sensors went offline, the control group at the outpost were 85% infected."

"_Infected_?" Shepard said. "Infected by _what?"_

"Through dispersion and eventual inhalation of spores, Species 37 has demonstrated a unique ability to affect and control other organisms."

"Shit, sir," the Williams-human piped up. "We have to warn Alenko."

Shepard already had his hand to his comm. "Shepard to Alenko. Come in, Lieutenant." A roar of static greeted him in response.

"That energy field is blocking our communications," the quarian offered. "We need to deactivate it to get through."

"If those colonists turn on them," Williams warned.

Wrex scoffed. The Alenko human was too easily burdened, too desperate to please. The type who sought to earn valor in the eyes of others instead of for himself. Between that one and the Williams-human, he would opt for the female every time. She had an indomitable nature the other lacked. "If he can't handle a few colonists what good is he to us?"

She shot him a glare. "He's not going to kill unarmed colonists."

He shrugged. "Then they'll kill him. Wishing they'll leave him alone won't make it happen."

"We can't worry about them now," Shepard said, voice rising above theirs. "We move on with the mission. Got it?"

She muttered her agreement and shot Wrex another angry look, which he ignored. During their last sparring match she'd landed a few good hits. Though she would never have the strength to take down a krogan in hand to hand combat, he had to admit she'd been right – some of the techniques he taught her had already made her a better fighter. The Alenko-human could stand to learn a few of her lessons.

If he perished at the colony it would be no great loss. But Wrex found himself hoping the asari could handle herself. He'd heard about the skill she'd demonstrated on Agebinium. Despite her painful naiveté, something about her reminded him of Aleena.

It would be a shame if they lost her so soon.

Liara had given little thought to the crane set up on the starboard side of the freighter. Now, however, it was foremost on her mind. And Hannah Murakami knew it. The former crewmember of the _Borealis_ watched her approach with wary, restless eyes, corners of her mouth pulling into a slight grimace.

The general demeanor of Zhu's Hope had cooled considerably since their return from the tunnels. Fai Dan showed no concern for Alenko's obvious distress, instead grilling them about what they had learned down at the tunnel, noticeably herding them away from the freighter. They'd had a bad experience with the _Normandy's _doctor, he'd told them, and thought it was best if they return to the ship.

Alenko argued, gripping a pillar to keep himself on his feet, blinking into the newly restored lights to the colony with agony etched deep in his eyes. Eyes that summoned all the focus they could muster to hone in on that crane long enough for Liara to notice.

As she quietly slipped away from the argument she looked over her shoulder, willing her feet not to double back. If they opened fire on him, he wouldn't be able to fight back.

_The mission comes first_, he had said.

She was glad she wasn't a soldier.

Upon closer examination, she saw both reasons why Alenko had been so interested in it. The first was the terminal beside it Murakami guarded. The second was that the crane connected to the freighter in a way that didn't make sense. There was nothing to lift. Nothing to move.

Except the ground.

"You shouldn't be here," Murakami said.

Liara gripped a small scanner concealed in her pocket, thumbing it blindly to initiate a scan. The tiny scanner had come with her from Therum, a handy little tool that was smaller than an omnitool and far more limited, but it took solid thermal readings – and with Alenko's decryption protocol she could use it to access the colony mainframe through the crane's control panel.

"We're not here to cause trouble," Liara said, holding her breath. Every movement her fingers made in her pocket seemed clumsy and obvious, but Murakami's gaze never left her face.

"I think you are," she replied. "Your predecessor wasn't exactly here out of charity."

Liara's fingers stilled on the scanner. _Predecessor? Goddess, is my mother here?_

Murakami chuckled a little, tilting her chin upwards and inhaling deeply. "This is all Ledra's fault. I would never have wound up here if it weren't for him. The opportunity of a lifetime, he told us. And Captain Dualla believed him." She fixed her gaze back on Liara. "Now they're all dead. It's just me and him. And we're never going to leave."

"Why?" Liara asked, heart thudding in her ears. The protocol was uploading. She just needed a few more seconds…

Murakami smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes and fingered the grip of a pistol peeking out from a holster Liara had overlooked. "I think you know."

The muzzle of the gun whipped free from its holster before Liara could withdraw her hand from her pocket, fingers fumbling to execute a mnemonic faster than a bullet could reach her.

A deafening crack shattered the stillness of the air. She sucked a breath in through her teeth.

_It doesn't even hurt_.

Murakami stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. A hand fluttered to her abdomen, where a red stain seeped through the cloth of her jumper.

Alenko stood behind her, pistol raised, face twisted into a grimace.

Behind them someone screamed. As Murakami slumped to the ground, all hell broke loose.

* * *

The quarian led them down another corridor onto a balcony overlooking a large lab, where computer terminals and research stations remained largely undisturbed, aside from a few fractured screens and shattered equipment where a scientist or two had gotten a wild hair to fight back. Oddly, the chairs remained neatly in place, or in some cases, stacked neatly out of the way. Wrex had never seen a clean battlefield before, but then again before Shepard he hadn't spent much time fighting machines that craved order.

However, as much as the room had been put back together after eliminating the humans, they had also done plenty of…rearranging. A massive claw of the geth dropship bored through the outer wall of the structure, showering the ground with a thick, chalky coating of concrete dust and debris. Thick, heavy cabling spooled from multiple access points, strewn throughout the area in what at first seemed a haphazard fashion, but upon further examination proved extremely precise.

Three geth monitored the cabling, all the diminutive base models. Wrex's fingers curled into tight fists. Weight advantage. Poor shielding. Ripping the flexible tubing along the back of their neck disrupted motor functions enough to incapacitate, and his kinetic barriers could take a direct hit from their pulse rifles for about four seconds before risking failure. That gave him a safe closing distance of twenty meters.

Simple. Granted, navigating the drop to the ground made the calculations a bit trickier, but that was part of the fun.

The snick and hiss of a sniper rifle barrel sliding loose from its casing echoed in his ear. With a disgruntled huff he glanced at the turian, who sighted down the barrel once it reached its full length. Shepard and the Williams-human did the same.

"Range weapons take all the joy out of fighting," he muttered.

"Sir?" the Williams-human asked quietly.

"Take 'em out," Shepard replied. Three quick shots, followed by three metallic clunks. Wrex spared a regretful glance at the heaps of metal.

"Don't worry big guy," Williams said, patting him on the shoulder. "Pretty sure there'll be a few dozen more with your name on 'em."

The quarian nodded towards the cabling, golden glow of her omnitool reflecting off her faceplate. "Hardlines. They're providing the means for the power transfer to the shield."

The Williams-human raised her gun.

"No!" the quarian cried, reaching out a hand to stop her. If Williams had a krogan's reflexes, the quarian would have dearly missed that hand. "It's too thick. We don't have the firepower to disrupt it, and by shooting at it you'll just alert the other geth."

Williams lowered the rifle begrudgingly. "So then what do we do? We can't shoot it, can't get Joker to shoot it. Anyone want to just ask them nicely to go away?"

The quarian frowned, still scanning her omnitool. "The ship's propulsion systems have been disabled. It looks like the only thing holding it up are these arms. Theoretically, if we disable one, the increased load differential will cause the others to fail."

"You just said we don't have the munitions to pull it off," Williams pointed out.

"We don't," the quarian agreed. "But all it would take is sufficient shearing force from the right angle."

"Time to get creative," the turian said with a sigh.

A marker appeared on Wrex's HUD. "Here," the quarian said. "I've located one of the other claw entry points. It looks like some kind shuttle receiving. There might be something there we can use."

Rubble blocked the ramp to the bottom of the lab, so one by one they dropped down to the ground and headed west past a few flickering terminals, where Shepard stopped and beckoned to the quarian. After a few moments of whispering she nodded and plugged an OSD into one of the terminals.

The Williams-human murmured something to the turian, then chewed her lip and pointed at a blood stain smeared on the lab desk. Wrex suppressed a sneer. Whoever's blood it was didn't deserve mourning. The human custom of such narrow specializations baffled him; those who studied their science had little to no training in arms, just like their farmers. They sent their people out to far reaching colonies where space was cruel and the people crueler, with a few tools and no instinct to _hunt_. Explorers with guns they had no skill to use, and every cause to need them. The depths of human blood shed in the Traverse were not shallow.

When Shepard and the quarian finished they continued on and up to another catwalk about three meters from the ground, overlooking an anteroom to the shuttle receiving bay.

And geth.

Two of the small, insect-like units hopped from wall to wall, clinging there with suction-like pads protruding from the ends of each limb. A large, antennaed geth bearing yellow stripes and carrying a shotgun that made Wrex's mouth water patrolled a path through the center of the room, keeping close watch on sightlines. A mix of troopers and the upgraded version that carried rocket launchers navigated skeins of thick black cable girding the floor, occasionally rearranging and making adjustments.

Wrex's hump burned at their _wrongness,_ that he could stumble upon a nest of these non-beings without his senses alerting him to their presence. The geth had no _scent_. Wrex knew species by their fear, the pulse thumping through their veins, the black expanse of their wide, swallowing pupils, the smell of their blood. The geth possessed none of these things, walking heaps of scrap, tubes and conductive fluid. To smell a geth was no different than smelling the oil and lubricant of the Mako.

The concept of synthetic life created a conundrum when none of the hallmarks of life applied.

But alive or no these machines still fought with lethal precision, and there was nowhere to hide on the catwalk. Urgent, mechanized parlance erupted once they came into sight, and this time, there were not enough sniper rifles to manage the job.

Wrex's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarling grin, heat rising under his scales. This foe was not the rachni. It was not the turians. But his blood demanded that it die.

Gunfire erupted.

Wrex did not wait for a command to attack, setting his sights on the nearest rocket-carrying trooper. A barrage of suppressing fire from Williams' rifle rattled over his head as he lunged, occasionally dwarfed by the ricocheting crack of the turian's careful sniping.

The rocket trooper aimed a shotgun at Wrex's heart. A deep chortle rippled from his throat. "I have two of those, _gurash._ I hope you have more than one!"

A loud boom followed by an electric sizzle sent the rocket launcher shrieking in catastrophic overheat, smoke from the quarian's overload grenade spreading the odor of fried circuits. Wrex emptied his own shotgun, then with a roar leapt to the right of the monster and grabbed its antennae, snapping it under the sheer force of his hands.

Something heavy landed on his back, suction pads clinging to the ablative coating of his hardsuit. Proximity alarms wailed as steely hands gripped the sides of the krogan's skull like a vice. At the sound of a mass accelerator spinning up in his ear he threw his head back, colliding with the solid alloy of the geth's head. It warbled but clung tight.

_Crack._

The weight of the geth vanished, toppling limp to the floor in a tangle of spidery limbs. Wrex looked up long enough to see the turian lower his rifle, then threw himself back into the fray. The chatter of Shepard's rifle felled two more troopers, while Wrex hefted a third with a biotic thrust and crushed it against the nearest wall.

When at last there was nothing left to kill, Wrex stepped up to a mostly-intact metallic shell, crushed it under his heel and spat.

Williams lowered her chin in bemusement. "We get it. You're a badass."

Wrex's lips spread wide. At the sight of the turian still up in his perch he offered a curt nod. "Nice shot. Do that a few more times and I might have to respect you."

"Well," the turian replied. "That certainly makes it all worth it for me."

Shepard had already continued through the anteroom and into the shuttle receiving bay, where the explosive chatter of his assault rifle echoed over the discordant shriek of dying geth. When Wrex entered the chamber Shepard stood near the center of the room, arms folded over his chest as he examined his options. Smoke billowed from three geth carcasses, mingling with the fresh, caustic stench of scorched metal.

Shepard, Wrex decided, had been born the wrong species.

The krogan followed the commander's gaze to another massive claw piercing the crumbling masonry, though this time it hadn't needed to force its way in. The geth had thrust it through the shuttle bay door, digging into the concrete of the floor for purchase. More cabling wound its way through the bay.

The turian wandered over to a control panel. "Shepard," he said after a moment, mandibles flaring. "Look here."

The commander peered over his shoulder, eyebrow rising. "Maintenance report?"

"Looks like they were having trouble calibrating the safety mechanism," he replied. "According to the report anything between 30 and 35 PSI would shear through a metal I-beam."

The quarian perked up. Shepard and the turian exchanged wordless glances.

"Tali?" Shepard asked, stepping out of the way. She eagerly took to the controls, calculating the right PSI to trigger the door. Moments later it screamed shut with a squeal, slicing through the metal claw like a scythe. The entire room shuddered as the geth drop ship buckled, the weight held up by the shorn claw abruptly redistributed to the other anchor points. For a moment it looked like the ship would hold, but one by one each claw gave way with a shriek of grinding metal. Outside one of the observation windows Wrex watched as the ship's cumbrous bulk plummeted away, helpless under the influence of gravity and a powered down drive core.

The quarian checked her omnitool. "The field is down!"

"Good," Shepard replied. "Let's get Baynham and the others and get the hell out of here."

The commander's comm crackled to life.

"_..pard, do you read? …mmander, we ….eed assistance!" _

It was not, Wrex noted with little surprise, the Alenko-human calling. Or the asari. It was the pilot. Shepard pressed an anxious hand to his ear. "Joker? What's happening? Where's Alenko and T'Soni?"

"…_olonists attacked….omething's wrong. Ale…..ot responding."_

"Commander," Tali interrupted. "Um. Our little act of sabotage appears to have mobilized the remaining geth in the facility. Converging on our location now."

"Sit tight," Shepard ordered into the comm. "We're coming."

Anticipation flooded the battlemaster's veins. What waited for them back at Zhu's Hope was of much greater interest to him than the geth. If the VI was correct, Species 37 had survived the reapers. But if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn't survive Urdnot Wrex.


	22. Chapter 22: Cyphra

**Chapter 22. Cyphra**

"Come out where I can see you! All of you!"

The mass accelerator of Shepard's assault rifle powered down with a whine as he eased his finger off the trigger. This was not going according to plan.

The removal of the drop ship had restored communications, and upon returning to the weigh station with Lizbeth and the other survivors in tow, a schism between Baynham and Jeong had already been underway.

Shepard took a moment to curse the brash, impulsiveness of youth as Lizbeth skidded to her mother's defense, alerting Jeong to their presence. A pistol with a scram rail and combat optics suite rivaling anything in Shepard's arsenal wavered dangerously in Jeong's hand, finger shaking where it hooked over the trigger. ExoGeni apparently supplied its people even better than the Alliance did.

For a moment Lizbeth looked the muzzle in the eye before her mother surrounded her with her arms and jerked her to the side. "Jeong!" she shouted.

"Shut up!" Jeong shrieked, leveling the pistol against her forehead with a trembling hand.

Shepard swore softly to himself, then stepped forward until the jaundiced light of the alcove fell over his face. His gun, still in hand, pointed towards the ceiling. "What's going on?" he asked carefully, gesturing to his squad to stand down.

"Comms are back up," Juliana said, expression full of loathing. "ExoGeni wants to purge the colony." She tightened her grip on Lizbeth, who shifted uneasily, eyes on Jeong. The remaining scientists watched warily, some taking cover, none offering assistance.

Jeong shot her a poisonous look. "Everyone shut up. Just shut _up_ and let me think!"

"You can't _do_ it Jeong," Juliana said forcefully.

The barrel of Jeong's pistol came to rest on Shepard. "This is all your _fault_! Why couldn't the geth just _kill_ you?"

Shepard glared at the pistol, resisting the urge to grab the gun and pistol whip him with it. Instead, he forced his voice to remain calm. "I know about the thorian," he said.

Lizbeth panicked. "I'm sorry, we didn't know—"

"Of course you knew," Shepard interrupted, tone rising sharply. "All of you knew. You put your own people at risk just to see what would happen." The downcast eyes and shuffling of feet confirmed his guess.

"Nobody's going to miss a few colonists," Jeong sniffed.

"Stand down," Shepard said coldly. "I _will_ kill you. This is your last chance."

For half a beat, the lines around Jeong's eyes softened, posture wilting. But then something arrogant solidified in his desperate eyes, returning the defiant crease to his brow. His grip tightened on the pistol so subtly that to the untrained eye it might have been no more than a deep breath.

Shepard's bullet pierced him between the eyes before Jeong even registered the danger, killing him before he hit the ground. Gasps of dismay quickly broke into moans. Several scientists looked away.

Juliana stared at the still corpse, trembling. "You killed him!"

Shepard holstered his weapon, grimacing as the coppery tang of blood and loosened bowels hit his nostrils. "People like that are a danger to everyone," he muttered. He looked from Jeong up to Juliana, whose expression mirrored Major Kyle's after Shepard had dragged his ass out of the tunnels on Torfan, a mixture of awe and revulsion. It did not improve his mood.

"Right now my people are under attack by the colonists at Zhu's Hope," Shepard informed her, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not losing them because some asshole with a misplaced set of priorities gets in my way." He turned his gaze towards Lizbeth. "Will the thorian use the colonists to defend itself?"

She nodded, expression solemn, brown eyes wide.

Shepard worked his jaw. When they had walked into Zhu's Hope he hadn't exactly imagined mowing down all the survivors just to get out. "Is there any way to sever its hold on them?"

She bit her lip, then shook her head.

"Nerve gas," another voice spoke up. Shepard looked around to see Gavin Hossle, the scientist who'd needed a favor. The OSD that Tali had made for him was still tucked in Shepard's pocket.

"And you just happen to have nerve gas lying around?" Shepard asked.

Hossel shook his head. The man was young and cocky, or at least had been before the geth. "But we do have an insecticide that we used in the gro-labs," he explained. "It contains trace amounts of Tetraclopine, a neuromuscular degenerator. It should act as a paralytic. Painful, but not fatal."

"Still have to deploy it without gassing us in the process," Shepard replied, brow furrowed.

"Concussion grenades," Williams spoke up. "Alenko taught me a trick or two. I could probably modify one to deploy the gas."

"How many grenades do we have left?" he asked, digging in his own pouch. Two. Garrus and Williams had four between them. Tali had a handful, but they were all tech mines that would take too much time to reprogram without a fight. Six total.

Shepard inhaled deeply. "Well. Going to have to make them count."

The Mako rolled cautiously toward the sealed Zhu's Hope access doors. No movement. Nothing on the scanner. On the surface nothing appeared to be amiss. Shepard drummed his fingers on the console.

"Shepard, I hate to ask this," Williams said. "But how are we going to get back in? The colonists locked the door behind us, and from the sounds of it they aren't exactly keen to welcome us back."

Shepard smiled. "Alenko hacked the door systems." Shepard held his breath as he input the algorithm, the same one that had bailed them out of a similar jam while serving on the _Tannenberg._ While salvaging a probe on Sharjilla they'd stumbled onto the base of operations for an asari slaver. Dantius, her name was. Upon discovery she'd ambushed Major Delahoussaye's team, taking him, Alenko and three other marines hostage, along with her…cargo. Alenko had managed to upload a decryption protocol from inside the facility, allowing Shepard to get the door open without triggering the alarms. Shepard had dealt with Dantius much as he had just dealt with Jeong.

He just had to hope his LT had uploaded the corresponding decryption protocol on his end before the colonists turned on them.

A green light appeared on his console, and with an inward sigh of relief the oversized doors began to creak slowly open.

He brought the Mako to an ungentle stop, then turned around to look at his crew. "We spare the colonists, understood? No live rounds unless the gas doesn't work, or someone is actually in danger."

They nodded, even Wrex, though his mottled lip quivered with a slight hint of irritation.

Shepard settled his helmet onto his head until the seals caught, then set the O2 scrubbers to recycle and locked out the atmosphere, sealing him off from any effects from the gas. When the others were ready he opened the Mako's hatch. "Enough people have died today," he muttered as he climbed out.

Eerie silence greeted them as they approached the barricade protecting the _Borealis_. There was no sign of the colonists, though Shepard could hear the distant hum of a power generator and the occasional gurgle from the aqueduct. Alenko had been busy. But now he was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance at his HUD confirmed both Alenko and Liara's hardsuits were still on the network. According to their transponder signals they _should_ be right here in the colony.

Two sharp pops sounded to Shepard's left. A high powered slug struck Shepard's shields with a hiss, another buried itself in the stone behind his head. Two colonists rose from behind the barricade, a man and woman Shepard recognized from their initial arrival. Cold, blank expressions had carefully chiseled away their humanity, leaving behind a blank slate. _Thralls_, Shepard thought to himself. _They're nothing more than thralls_. And there was no way to know if even killing the thorian would restore them. _We might be risking our lives for nothing_.

It hadn't been nothing to the people on Elysium. Eden Prime. He could recall a young boy on Mindoir who was glad someone from the Alliance had taken the risk, even if it had taken him a while to appreciate it.

Shepard spurred into action, hoping that if they had trouble hitting a slow moving target they wouldn't know what to do with a high speed one. Using his mini-frame to judge the distance he lobbed the first grenade, which detonated with a sizzle right at the colonists' feet. They hit the ground with two soft thuds, the woman's head cracking painfully against the barricade on her way down. Shepard hurried past them, ignoring the toxic alarms in his HUD.

The salarian merchant, Arcelia and three other colonist waited for them in the shadow of the freighter. Shepard palmed another grenade and let it fly, triggering the detonation while it was still airborne and showering the colonists with a gossamer cloud of sulfuric vapor. Arcelia and the other humans dropped as easily as the first two.

Not the salarian.

A strangled shriek escaped his throat, bulbous fingers scrabbling at his neck as a thick, ebullition of white froth bubbled from his lips. Shepard stumbled, stopped and caught the gasping form as it fell, black eyes wide and straining in their sockets as rivulets of green fluid dribbled down the taper of his jaw.

He glanced helplessly at Williams as she skidded to surprised halt, eyes widening in shock. The salarian's spine arched away from Shepard's supporting palm, body wrenching in sudden, twisting agony. One hand pawed at the commander's hardsuit as a last, reedy breath forced itself from his lungs.

"Shepard!"

He pulled his eyes away from the body in his arms to glimpse movement from the top of the Borealis…and the barrel of a rifle pointed right at his heart.

Garrus' rifle popped.

"_No_!"

An old man, the colony's stand-in medic, tumbled off of the _Borealis' _hull, hitting the ground at Shepard's feet with a cold, unforgiving thud. Blood trickled from the perfect hole between his eyes.

"Damn it, Garrus!" Shepard yelled, swiveling back to look at the turian. He heard the resounding snap of another grenade – Williams – going off as she pushed past to continue the assault. Wrex and Tali followed without looking back.

Garrus' sharp exhale was audible even over the comm. "He…had you in his sights."

Through a wall of silence between them, Shepard heard loud and clear what he wanted to say. _It was you or him. _

Forgetting the colonists, Shepard strode over to the turian until they were toe to toe, forcing Shepard to look up. Behind the faceplate Garrus' visor was little more than a blue smear over his left eye. When he spoke, Garrus actually flinched.

"One more body and I'm leaving your ass on this planet, understood?"

"Sir," came the stiff reply.

A bullet whizzed past. A light on Garrus' visor flashed. In the background Wrex bellowed, the colossal sound followed by the crunch of metal and the crackle of one of Tali's ECM mines.

"Skipper!"

Shepard turned in the direction of Williams' voice, leaving the stunned turian behind. She had found a perch on the starboard side of the freighter and was providing occasional suppressive fire to allow Wrex and Tali to find flanking positions. A handful of colonists still guarded a crane, occasionally peering out of cover to fire off a few rounds.

"Got two mines left," she reported. "If you can lure 'em out, I'll knock 'em down."

"Any sign of Alenko or T'Soni?"

She adjusted a seal on her helmet. "Negative. Looks like the colonists stashed them somewhere."

Shepard exhaled, trying to force the tremor out of his hands. _He had you in his sights._ "I'll give you a good shot. Make it count."

"You're gonna just charge on out there and hope they take the bait, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

She checked the rail extension on her rifle, then held it ready. "I'm a fast learner, sir."

He grunted, then leaned into his comm. "Tali?"

"_We've got the perimeter, sir. You're clear. The remaining colonists are all over by that crane." _

A flash of blonde hair crested the barricade by the crane. Macha Doyle.

_No more bodies._

He launched himself from cover. The heads of two colonists appeared, eyes hidden behind the sights of their weapons. A volley of bullets struck his shields with a harsh sizzle, creating a blue flare as the emitter bled the kinetic energy away. Williams' grenade hit with a hiss and crackle, followed by two thuds.

Three left. Shepard could see the boots of one in a gap at the base of their makeshift barricade, a pile of hastily erected slag. It wasn't much to speak of, but it had shielded them enough to avoid the brunt of the gas. Taking in a deep breath, he changed course directly towards the barrier, leaning his weight into his shoulder. More bullets pummeled his shields, a few of them breaching the kinetic barrier and biting into the ablative coating of his hardsuit.

He collided with the barricade in a shower of debris and sliding stone. Pain bloomed in his shoulder, radiating down his arm in a sharp, spearing lance. The momentum of his impact sent two colonists reeling, the third pinned under Shepard's weight as he fell inward. William's last grenade detonated right on cue, releasing a thick scud of gas. The three colonists shuddered and went limp.

A wave of nausea washed over him. Damaged suit seals.

The horizon shifted as Wrex lifted him off the ground and set him forcefully back on his feet, away from the gaseous cloud. Shepard blinked warily, body rocking forward as the krogan clapped him on the back with a heavy hand.

"Are you all right?" Tali asked, running up to him.

Shepard stood motionless for a moment, letting the world set itself right again, before answering. "I don't think I recommend doing that," he said finally, putting a hand to his head. His limbs felt heavy, but he appeared to still have control over them.

"Hang on," Williams said, walking slowly towards them, scanning the unconscious bodies. "Where's Fai Dan?"

Shepard glanced about the grounds. She was right – he wasn't there.

Tali's sharp inhale directed Shepard's attention to his right. Dan appeared from behind a generator, walking with a slow, labored gait, pistol out but held away from his body, as though he wanted to drop it but couldn't get the message through to his fingers. Two more colonists flanked him, David Al Talaqani, the man who had greeted them at the docking port, and a woman he'd seen working on the aqueduct.

They were out of grenades.

Shepard held up his rifle. "Back down, Dan. You don't want to do this."

"I can't…stop," he rasped. He grabbed the wrist holding the gun with his opposite hand, fingers white with effort. "It wants me to kill you."

"Where are my people?" Shepard demanded, holding up his rifle.

"She has them," Dan said, hand holding the gun trembling dangerously. He laughed, the sound deeply unpleasant. "It gets in your head. I…tried to fight it. I'm their leader." He gestured to Al Talaqani and the woman, who stared at Shepard with cold, lifeless eyes. "They _trust_ me."

"Dan, I can help you," Shepard said.

Very slowly the colonist shook his head, arms trembling, face contorted in pain. "Can't help me. Help them." With a sudden whiplike motion he turned the gun to himself and fired. Shepard took one futile step forward as a geyser of blood and gore spouted from Dan's temple, arcing like a fountain as the body crumpled. Tali stifled a gasp. For a moment the deadened eyes of the remaining colonists sprang to life, flashing with all-too human horror and recognition. Each took a tentative step backwards before clutching their heads as high, keening cries tore from their throats.

"We have to protect it," Al Talaqani moaned, staggering towards Shepard with his gun raised, jerking like a marionette on a string.

"You don't," Shepard said, stepping to the side and away from his squad. With tremendous effort the two colonists changed course to follow him.

"I'm sorry," Al Talaqani said before the pain in his face transformed into cold-blooded fury.

The bullets from Shepard's rifle hit struck him in the chest, knocking him backwards and opening tiny holes across his body, all spraying bright cordons of blood like a leaking dam. The woman got two steps farther before Shepard mowed her down, the sharp stream of slugs slicing through her face, jawbone and fragments of teeth glittering beneath ribbons of shredded skin.

Silence fell.

Shepard yanked off his helmet and threw it to the ground, where it rolled toward the limp hand of Macha Doyle, coming to a halt with a soft thunk against her fingers. He walked swiftly away from the mess, running a hand over the short bristles of hair on his head. No one dared speak.

"Tali," Shepard said finally, trying to still the tremor threatening his voice. "Where are Alenko and T'Soni?"

"They…they should be right here," Tali stammered, awkwardly thumbing through the readouts on her omnitool. "I don't understand…"

Shepard's gaze fell on the crane poised next to the _Borealis ._ Its primary hook connected to a section of the freighter that had been carefully laid across the ground. Swirls of recently disturbed dust formed chaotic patterns around the perimeter of the metal. "Williams," he barked, directing her towards the crane. Her eyes lit up when she caught on to his line of thought, and immediately stepped up to the controls. The crane powered to life with a groan, peeling the section away under the slow grind of gears to reveal a rectangle of darkness and the rim of a staircase descending into the substructure.

"They're beneath us," Shepard said with some shred of satisfaction. He stooped down to pick up his discarded helmet. "And they better still be alive when I find them."

* * *

The staircase wound a long, steep descent into a network of tunnels. The thick, heavy air reeked of mold and decay, and as soon as they reached the bottom Shepard nearly gagged on an overpowering stench of rotting flesh.

Williams blanched. "What the hell is _that?"_

A deep rumble from below sent a tremor through the ground under their feet. Clouds of stone shook loose from their crevices in puffs of smoke, clattering to the ground like hailstones.

"_That_," Wrex informed them, "is going to be something worth fighting."

The tunnel opened up into a massive chamber spanning several levels above them. Viewing galleries had been delved around its circumference along each level, each accessible by connective ramps. Below their feet yawned an ancient, dark abyss. Years of training picked up such details automatically, Shepard's brain identifying exits and storing away any possible tactical advantages as naturally as breathing. It was a useful skill, especially with his primary attention drawn to a much, _much_ larger problem.

In the center of the chamber leered a colossal aggregate of amorphous flesh, suspended over the chasm by a fan of taut, tendinous cords, each one thicker than Shepard's body and some significantly more so. A mass of slick, writhing tentacles draped from the base of a gaping maw that slavered a thick, viscous fluid. With each sway of the tentacles a guttural belch released a wave of noxious odor reminiscent of decayed fruit.

"That's going to be…problematic," Garrus mused from behind him.

Damp condensation had already begun to form on the ablative plating of Shepard's hardsuit. Beads of sweat rolled down his back, the air so heavy it was hard to breathe. There may have been worse conditions for a fight, but none immediately came to mind.

"Nothing's ever simple, is it?" Shepard muttered.

He took a few cautious steps into the chamber, eyeing the long tendrils anchoring the creature. Its baggy flesh shifted and throbbed as it became aware of their presence. The tentacles shivered, parted, and a thick sheet of mucus discharge vomited from its flexing maw, followed by a humanoid shape with an undulating crest. _Liara_, Shepard thought with a hiss through his teeth. But it wasn't.

This asari was green, not blue, with narrow cheekbones and salient eyes that looked down on Shepard with cold, cruel calculation, the gossamer threads of the thorian's slime still clinging to the tips of her crest. The ornate buckles and straps favored by huntresses decorated her black garb and she carried no weapon, but a well of blue biotic energy played about her fingers.

"Stop," she commanded, holding out one hand. Behind her the thorian pulsed and its connective tendrils shuddred, like a nerve cluster sending and receiving a message. "I speak for the Old Growth, as I did for Saren."

Shepard's shoulders tightened. "What did he want?"

"You stand before the thorian," she said harshly. "You should be in awe!"

"Not likely," Shepard replied evenly, hand resting on the pistol in his holster. "I want my people back. Now. Where are they?"

The green asari gestured grandly. "The meat awaits its decay," she replied.

A quick check of his HUD confirmed their suit signatures were still active, though Alenko's biofeed was marked with a red flag. Liara's heart rate and respiration mirrored that of someone suspended in cryo freeze. But despite the fact their suit markers indicated they should be right here, they were nowhere to be seen in the cavernous chamber.

"You son of a bitch," Williams murmured, taking a step forward. Shepard blocked her with one arm, the steady throbbing in his shoulder spiking white hot. A lingering tingle from the gas still hovered over his limbs.

"They haven't harmed you," Shepard said. "All we want is what Saren wanted. Let them go and tell me what I need to know."

The asari sneered. "The Old Growth cares not for these scurrying invaders. Your lives are infinitesimal, meaningless, just like the ones who are gone. For many cycles before them we grew, feasting on their flesh. You will be no different."

Shepard gestured towards the corridor from which they had come. "If we're so damn meaningless, why bother with Zhu's Hope?" He pointed at her. "And I'm pretty sure this emissary of yours isn't some convenient mutation. Saren gave her to you, didn't he? Which means you dealt with him. So like it or not, you're dealing with me."

The cavern shook as the creature pulsed again, more urgently this time.

"The one called Saren wished for knowledge of those who are gone," the asari said, taking a few menacing steps forward. "The Old Growth listened to flesh for the first time in the long cycle. Trades were made. Then the ones without blood attacked the New Growth. Flesh that would tend the next cycle!"

"We have a common enemy," Shepard said. "Give me what you gave him and I can use it against him. Make him pay for whatever harm he did to you."

Uncanny light glinted in the asari's eyes, and for a moment Shepard remembered the alien feeling of seeing the galaxy through the eyes of a prothean, twisting familiar shapes into something strange and unsettling as disparate minds strove to reconcile the same object. He almost pitied it.

"No more," the asari declared. "The thorian is great. Your blood will feed the ground and nourish the new growth!"

Her body shivered, blue energy wreathing her in a deadly aura. Shepard reached for his assault rifle, the mass accelerator coming online with a vibrant whine. Williams, somehow one step ahead of him, spun up her gun with a sputter that ended in a hail of bullets. Gobbets of slivery flesh and slime spewed from the creature, whose flesh trembled with rage but seemed frustratingly uninjured by the assault.

Wrex took on the asari, pummeling her with a warp field, then lifted her off the ground with a welt of blue fire and hurled her against the nearest wall of the chamber with a bone-shattering crunch.

But she wasn't the only creature stumbling about the great cavern. From the shadows of the surrounding galleries came chilling moans, followed by bipedal creatures like shambling corpses. They were humanoid only in the vaguest sense, with long claws for hands and sunken sockets with no eyes, framed by rotting flesh. They stank of mulch and putrefaction, stumbling with outstretched arms and gaping mouths lined with fangs.

"Oh _fuck_ this," Williams declared, and turned her weapon away from the thorian's inchoate mass to take aim on their newest threat. Wrex growled with eagerness and charged into their midst, sending them flying with powerful thrusts of his arms. One of them stopped in front of him, gurgled, then vomited a dark, viscous muck that splattered his armor and began to steam. The krogan bellowed in sudden pain and ripped at the ablative coating, exposing the padding underneath. Throwing the smoking armor aside he seized the zombie-like creature's neck and snapped it with one brutal squeeze.

"Shepard!" Tali cried. "Those ligatures look like anchor points, some kind of nerve bundle or neural node. They're all over this cavern. If we can destroy them maybe we can dislodge it!"

"Do it! Tali, mark everyone's scanners. Everyone find a node!"

Shepard's HUD lit up with markers, all at various locations and levels along the cavernous gallery. Shepard charged up a ramp to the second level. Two of the thorian thralls standing in his way dropped as he reached them, felled by slugs from Garrus' rifle. He kept going until he reached the first marker, and looked up to see a swollen bag of flesh anchored to the wall by webs of sinuous tendrils. Setting his jaw Shepard fired, emptying a ceaseless stream of bullets, each recoil sending pain shooting up his arm until the overheat alarm tripped a warning in his HUD. The node erupted in gobs of meat and gristle drenched in a fetid slime, and below him the thorian shuddered, an agonized squeal escaping from some hidden orifice.

Shepard was aware of a distant plop, followed by a surprised exclamation from Garrus.

"Spirits, it's another asai!" the turian shouted over the comm. "I think it's a clone!"

"Put her down," Shepard ordered, already heading for the next node. Wrex bulled his way in front, covered in gore and bellowing for more.

Each time Garrus dropped the clone another appeared, regurgitated from the thorian's bloated paunch. Williams and Shepard focused on nodes, Wrex parted the shuffling thralls like water over a damn, corona writhing angrily as he lashed out again and again. The heat and cloying stench made Shepard's stomach roll, environmental interface of his hardsuit running at max power and still failing to compensate. The network of ramps and levels was like navigating a maze, and around every curve was some new horror.

Shepard finally drove his rifle beyond its heat tolerances. The weapon screeched as the firing mechanism locked down, rendering it useless until the heat sinks recovered. He jammed it in the holster on his back and grappled for the shotgun, pelting the last node with slug after slug until it exploded in streams of pale green ichor.

As the last strand snapped the cavern shook with the thorian's agonized cry, a sound so much bigger than the room they were standing that Shepard began to wonder if they had seen more than a small portion of the organism's true size. It plummeted into the abyss below with a whoosh, ligatures flailing like whips as they disappeared below the edge.

Shepard propped the barrel of his shotgun against the ground and leaned on it like a cane, letting his damaged arm hang at his size. He gazed at the vacated space while his heart yammered in his ears. The creature was gone. Dead, hopefully. But with it may have gone both the answers needed and two of his crew.

God_damn_ this place.

"Commander!" Garrus said sharply. "Get down here!"

With a heavy sigh Shepard ran, biomonitors chirping a body temperature alert. He shut them off.

When he reached the ground level he found the turian and Tali standing in front of three flesh-colored pouches mounted to the wall, reminiscent of the thorian's physiology but independent from it, like some kind of cocoon. Shepard remembered the spores the VI had spoken of and backed slowly away. Williams and Wrex came up behind them. The krogan's sides heaved, but his blood red eyes remained sharp and savage.

One of the pods fractured, spilling a shape onto the ground. "Liara!" Shepard kneeled to the ground beside her. Thick, clear mucus dripped from her body, but her eyes fluttered open. "Quick," he signaled to the others. "Get them out!"

He slid a hand behind Liara's head. She twisted to the side retched, a violent shudder convulsing her slender frame. He held on until she was finished, anxiously searching her face.

"I swear…you won't have to rescue me…every time," she wheezed.

A slow smile spread across his face. Gently he helped her to her feet, one hand lingering on her shoulder a beat too long once she was steady.

The other two pods contained Alenko and the asari thrall. Alenko's breath was shallow, eyes hazy and unfocused. Williams crouched beside him, ignoring the slime and throwing one of his arms around her shoulder.

"Jesus, LT. Having a bad day?"

He groaned.

Garrus glowered at the asari as she lurched to her feet, putting a hand to her head. Unlike the green clones she had blue skin a few shades darker than Liara's. Soft grey eyes looked out from a face bearing none of the animosity of the version of herself who had addressed them. She regarded them with a mixture of wonder and fear.

"I must have killed you a dozen times," Garrus said, rifle still ready in his hands. "What the hell is going on?"

"It's dead," she said, as though she scarcely believed it. "I am free!"

"What happened?" Shepard demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Shiala," the asari replied. "I serve…_served_ Matriarch Benezia. And Saren."

Liara, making a futile effort to wipe away the thorian's residue, stilled at the mention of her mother. "Where is she now?" she asked. "Why is she with him?"

Shiala blinked, gazing at Liara with curiosity, and possibly recognition. "Benezia…lost her way."

"I don't understand," Liara argued, hands clenching into weak fists. She weaved on her feet, and Shepard's hand returned to her shoulder. "Benezia is one of the most powerful matriarchs in the galaxy. She wouldn't have just gone along with this. Something must have happened!"

Shiala's expression turned almost to pity. "Saren is more powerful than you realize." She turned back to Shepard. "You saw the beacon. Am I correct?"

(_machines that descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns) _

Shepard swallowed. "Yes."

"Then you carry a great gift. But it's one neither you nor Saren can understand. He came to the thorian for the cipher. And such is his influence I…became a willing slave to help him get it."

"Cipher?" Shepard demanded. "What cipher?"

Her smile gave Shepard chills. "Trying to explain it is like explaining color to a creature with no eyes. But in return for my life, I will show you."

Shepard scrutinized her, then glanced around at his crew before returning his gaze to Shiala. "I don't understand."

But Liara did. "She wants to meld with you," she said, her tone almost accusing. "Asari control over our nerve impulses allows us to merge with the nervous systems of others. It's an…intimate connection. But it will allow her to transfer thoughts, ideas, without need for words."

"Is it safe?" he asked, scowling at Shiala.

"Yes," Liara said reluctantly, blue eyes narrow and void of expression.

Briefly his hand tightened on her shoulder before he let go. "Then do it."

Shiala stepped closer. Garrus, Wrex and Williams all renewed their grip on their weapons, but Shepard waved them down.

"Try and relax, Commander," she said softly, and Shepard felt his heart rate speed up. "To meld with me you must open your mind, look for the strands that connect us to one another." She covered his hands, which still clutched his rifle, with her own. Blue fire rippled under her palms, and Shepard felt a tingle run through his body, setting his nerves alight. Leaning her face close, she smiled a vacant smile, pupils expanding into wide, dark pools. Her voice, soft and distant, echoed in his ear.

"Embrace eternity."

The gun fell from his hands.


	23. Chapter 23: Iunctura

*Author's note: There won't be a new chapter next week. I've gotten a little behind, and need to catch up. I will, however, be posting something completely unrelated and totally off-the-wall in its place.

**Chapter 23 - Iunctura**

Ashley Williams inhaled deeply as the outer airlock door closed off Feros' stench. Recirculated air had never smelled so good. Granted, it was hard to get the full effect covered in the refuse of that fucking _plant_, but even the _hint_ of something not infused with that swampy, oppressive muck was a welcome development.

The relief was lost on Alenko, however. The LT leaned heavily against her, grimacing against the light of the airlock. Beads of sweat rolled down his clammy, pale skin.

"How ya doing there, killer?" she asked.

He mumbled something in reply. Ashley's gaze slid to her left, where Liara stood with her arms clasped loosely in front of her, brow furrowed as she gazed off into space, completely oblivious to them as droplets of sludge pooled at her feet. Ashley sighed. Shepard had sent her back to the _Normandy_ with the thorian-slimed biotics, keeping Wrex, Garrus and Tali with him to help get the colonists up and put Zhu's Hope back together. If it could be put back together. The loss of Fai Dan would hurt. But Shiala, oddly, had expressed interest in remaining behind. To make things right, she had said, if there was anything you could do to make _that_ shit right. Shepard seemed too exhausted to care much about her motivations.

Whatever she had done to the commander had thrown him for one hell of a loop.

When Shiala had let him loose he'd been quiet and drawn, forehead knotted with tension and his normally vivid eyes flat and grey. He'd said nothing, merely gave his orders and set everyone to a task. Ashley was dying to ask what had happened, what it felt like to have an asari crawling around in your brain like a bug, but for once in her life she kept her mouth shut. When she'd left him he'd been sitting on a crate, staring fixedly at the ground, as if keeping himself upright required all of his concentration.

The inner airlock door opened with a whir, followed by a rush of cool air and the sound of Joker's voice.

"Jesus effing _Christ_ what the hell have you been in to?"

The irascible pilot stood on the other side of the hatch, waving a hand in front of his nose. Pressly quickly brushed him aside, causing him to scramble to hold on to his crutches. "Easy there, old man. Jeez, do I need to wear a handicap sign on my ass?"

Williams stifled a laugh, but Pressly ignored him. "Lieutenant. Is everyone all right?"

Alenko grunted.

"That means yes," Ashley explained. "More or less. I think this one needs some rack time though, sir."

"Where's Shepard?" Pressly's nose twitched, eyes watering in a herculean effort not to let on how bad the stench was.

"Helping revive some colonists," she told him. "There were, uh, complications. And spores."

"_Spores?"_

She grinned. "I'm sure he'll fill you in. In the meantime, I think we'd be doing everyone a favor if we got cleaned up."

Pressly backed hastily away. Joker just shook his head, swinging around and heading back to the cockpit.

"Come on, LT," Ashley said to the ailing lieutenant. "And in case you're wondering, no I'm never going to let you live down having your ass carried down to the medbay after being beaten up by a geranium."

"It was hardly…a geranium," he grimaced, "and if you don't stop _talking_ I'm going to hit you with a biotic field."

She snorted. "I'd love to see you do that without throwing up all over your feet. Face it Alenko, you're the damsel in distress and I'm your knight in shining armor."

He mumbled something in response. She didn't think it was praise.

Every crew member manning the galaxy map swiveled their heads when the thorian's stench hit their nostrils, gaping at the dripping marines as they passed through the CIC. Ashley grinned and waved, very aware of the treads of thorian muck their boots left along the pristine deckplates. "Navy pretty boys," she said under her breath. "I'd love to see just one of them with a mouthful of sludge in those perfect teeth."

"For the love…of God. Shut. _Up._"

Dr. Chakwas met them at the bottom of the stairs and quickly escorted Alenko into the med bay. "Triptons not working?" she asked.

Instead of replying Alenko hoisted himself onto one of the medical beds and leaned his head heavily into his hands, teeth gritted. Ashley bit her lip, watching the lines of his face gnarl and twist. Dr. Chakwas reached for a wall panel and dimmed the lighting. After a long silence Alenko wearily fingered the seals of his chestplate, sliding them open with a hiss and pulling the armor away to reveal a white undershirt underneath. Ashley reached out and took the armor from him, glad she still wore her gauntlets so she couldn't feel the slowly drying slime.

"Need some help?" she asked.

"No," he said, tugging off his own gauntlets. "I just need somewhere dark. And silent. I'll be fine."

"You can have my office," Dr. Chakwas told him. "There's a cot in there. I'll see to it you aren't disturbed."

He nodded gratefully and heaved slowly back to his feet, still wearing the lower half of his hardsuit. Ashley turned to go. "Chief," she heard him say with effort. She looked back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," he said.

She smiled, but this time with sympathy. "Any time, LT."

* * *

From the medbay Ashley trudged to the head. Free of her duties she now wanted nothing more than a hot shower and something to eat. Once she'd done that she planned to spend about eight years in a sleeper pod.

Outside the door she could already hear the echo of water splattering against tile. Inside steam curled outward from the shower bay, a thin layer of condensation already growing on the mirrors over the sinks. A thorian-encrusted Predator hardsuit rested in a pile by the corner, dripping a brackish puddle on the floor. She sighed a little. There had not been much opportunity for Ashley to chat with Liara at all before deploying on Feros. Naked in the shower wasn't exactly her first choice for a bonding session. She thought about waiting until the asari was done, but the idea of remaining in her own skin for one second longer was too disgusting to entertain.

Piece by piece she shucked off her armor, creating enough noise to make her presence known. She heard Liara shuffle her feet, clear her throat a little.

Ashley tugged at the pins fastening her thick, long hair into a military approved bun and let it swing free past her shoulders. Her helmet might have spared it the slime, but it was still oily and matted with sweat. Few times in her life had she been quite this thankful to get clean.

She stepped into the bay, smiling thinly at the asari. _Don't say anything stupid. _

Liara smiled briefly then turned her back, letting the water from the running shower head hit her in the face. Ashley wrinkled her nose as thin streams of water flipped off the curved tip of her skull crest and flicked her in the eye.

Goddamned tentacle heads and their goddamned perfect skin. There wasn't a blemish to be seen anywhere on the woman, and unclothed Ashley saw that in places around her chest and along her thighs the shading of her sky blue coloring changed ever so slightly, like glass held up to a warm light. It was downright fucking radiant.

After a few hundred years of progress in women's equality, humanity gets to the stars only to find the master race of perfect Amazon women waiting for them, just as likely to dance half naked on a bar as they were to kill you with goddamned _space_ magic.

She turned on a second shower head and sighed as the water hit her body, clattering off the dog tags around her neck and washing the stink of the thorian out of her skin. Turning her back to the spray she slicked her hands down the length of her hair, kneading until it was saturated.

"I'm sorry if this is personal," Liara said suddenly, and Ashley turned to see the doctor giving her a curious look.

"What?" Ashley said warily. Modesty was not one of her qualities – the marines quickly saw to that – but in front of the asari she felt uncharacteristically exposed.

"Human…_hair. _Is it hard to…care for?"

Ashley let out a bark of laughter and reached for a shampoo bottle. "Dr. T'Soni, you just managed to hit on one of the unique problems of being a human woman."

She tilted her head to the side. "I did?"

"Imagine looking for the perfect facial tattoo, but having to redo it every _day._ And the unrealistic expectation of getting it perfect every time." She squeezed a glob of shampoo onto her palm and lathered up her head. "Nothing ruins a girl's day faster than a bad hair day. Unless you're a marine, in which case it's not your job to look impressive."

Liara seemed to consider this for a moment. "Yours is…longer than most I've seen. Is that a genetic outlier? Anomaly of some kind?"

"I'm too lazy to pick up a scissors," Ashley replied.

Her eyes flicked lower on Ashley's body, and in a moment of horror the gunnery chief could see another question brewing on her lips. A fierce blush set her skin on fire. She was amazed the water didn't steam off her skin. "That's normal too," she said hastily, resisting the urge to cover herself. "And it's not a gender thing."

"Humans are very…modest about their sexuality," Liara observed.

"Yeah," Ashley grumbled. "That's why you don't see as many of us grinding our ass against a stripper's pole." She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth, even more so when Liara's eyes widened in shock. _So much for not saying anything stupid._ "Sorry," she said hastily. "That was…_really_ uncalled for. I didn't mean it."

"Of course," Liara murmured, turning away once more. Ashley resisted the urge to beat her head against the wall.

"Charm is not one of my virtues," she said with a sigh. "In fact, I think we can extend that to polite conversation in general."

Liara didn't answer, and Ashley mentally berated herself. How many times had her father lectured her about running her brain through a filter before she let something pop out of her mouth?

Soap dribbled in her eyes, and she stabbed them with a finger trying to rinse it out. In the uncomfortable silence the hiss of water off tiles became louder than the roar of a train.

She twisted the knob until the water ran hotter, turning her skin an angry red. A heavy blanket of steam billowed up between her and the silent asari. Ashley couldn't help but crane her head every now and then to glance over at her, tongue tied up around another apology that sounded stupider every time she ran it through that supposed brain filter.

Once she'd told her dad she never thought before she spoke because by thinking about it too hard her thoughts started sounding alien and unfamiliar. Like she was running them through someone else's filter. Sure it might save her some grief, but some part of the real Ashley Williams got left out. The way she saw it, if someone was going to dislike you, might as well get it out of the way right off the bat.

"Do you have any idea how long before the others return?" Liara asked, startling Ashley to the point she nearly slipped on wet tile.

"Um. Depends on how long it takes to bring the colonists around and get things sorted out."

"I see," she replied, that distracted look coming back to her face. She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower bay, reaching for a towel hanging on the wall.

_She was asking about Shepard_, Ashley realized. Something about that freaky thing Shiala had done to him was bothering her. _Christ_, she wondered. Was the asari _jealous?_

Maybe the blue scientist was more interesting than Ashley gave her credit for.

* * *

Garrus reached that crucial tipping point of too exhausted to sleep somewhere between the thorian and the cleanup, and by the time he reached the _Normandy_ had gone right on past it. So after getting cleaned up he'd joined the efforts of Dubyansky and Corporal Tucks in the cargo bay, winching down straps and locking down wheels to secure the Mako back to its moorings. Every muscle and plate on his body hurt, but by this point he felt too tired to complain. Or too tired to feel it. He wasn't sure which.

"Tough go, sir?" Dunyansky asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

"I've had more pleasurable experiences, yes."

Emboldened, Tucks chimed in with a question of his own. "What the hell was that thing down there?"

The turian considered the question for a moment before replying. "Cranky."

Truth was, only Shepard had any real inkling what the hell the thorian was. The commander had said very little after his experience with Shiala, restricting conversation to giving orders and seeing they were followed. And he hadn't spoken to Garrus at all. Something always needed his attention when Garrus cleared his throat to speak, or he had some matter too convenient to be a coincidence to attend to on the other side of the camp. Eventually Garrus took the hint.

_Did I have another choice?_ The grief stricken wails of Calantha Blake when she awoke to find her husband was dead would ring in his mind for a long time. Garrus was responsible for that grief. He played it over and over in his mind, spotting Hollis on the roof, seeing the glint of metal in his hands. Garrus knew a perfect shot when he saw one, and his visor had informed him the high powered rifle in his hands was enough to get through Shepard's shields. Lobbing a grenade would have meant one less for later. The body count could have been double the final number if he hadn't fired.

But if he was honest with himself none of that had occurred to him until _after_ he'd taken the shot, scrambling for justification under Shepard's harsh scowl. The truth was he'd just…_reacted._ Followed his gut. His instincts rarely let him down, and before Shepard that small error margin was well within what he deemed an acceptable range.

But since meeting Shepard, nothing seemed acceptable.

He could hear his father chiding him in his ear, lecturing about leaping first, looking later. According to C-Sec his duty would have been to protect the colonists at all costs. But he wasn't with C-Sec anymore. He was with Shepard. A Spectre. The rules didn't apply.

He was _right_. Wasn't he?

The two crewmembers looked poised to keep pressing their luck for information until the hulking shadow of Wrex appeared. It was one of the few times Garrus was thankful to see him. Dubyansky and Tucks immediately clammed up and worked faster. Garrus was willing to bet whenever the krogan was around, efficiency skyrocketed.

"Get out," Wrex said once they had finished. They were all too happy to oblige.

"Thanks," Garrus said, climbing down from the combustion manifold. "The last thing I want to do after nearly being murdered by zombies and eaten by a giant plant is to talk about nearly being murdered by zombies and eaten by a giant plant."

The krogan grunted, roving past him on the way to the alcove he'd set up for himself. Garrus didn't know what an exhausted krogan looked like, but if such a thing existed this might be it. He picked up a toolkit and crouched by the front axle, scouting out the damage that Tali had assessed on the skyway.

"Do you have to do that now?" Wrex growled.

"Too tired to sleep," Garrus replied.

"Turians," the krogan muttered.

Garrus continued working for a few moments, listening to the krogan shuffle around. "You know," he said, tilting his head. "It's the pinnacle of irony that you're the one who came out of that fiasco with the colonists with a zero body count."

There was a pause, then a scuffle as Wrex shoved his armor crested head into view, lip curled just enough to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth.

"It's a lot easier to think of all krogan as savage monsters, isn't it?" he said, red eyes glinting.

"Well," Garrus stuttered. "You have to admit your people don't go out of their way to dispel the stereotype."

The krogan's great head shook back and forth slowly, lip dropping but eyes never losing their hardened edge. "Go home, turian. Stay out in the real world long enough and you might have to learn something."

Garrus' mandible quivered. After a moment he cleared his throat. "That…seems to be a common thread I've been encountering lately."

Wrex's eyes darted briefly back and forth, then to Garrus' surprise he chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that nearly shook the room. "Stay close to Shepard, kid. One day you might be all right."

* * *

Liara stood outside Shepard's quarters, kneading her hands nervously. _This is not the right time_, she thought. Shepard had only been back onboard for a few hours. The only people he'd spoken to were Dr. Chakwas and Navigator Pressly, the former to check on Lt. Alenko and the latter to issue orders and reassure the older man things were under control. From there he had disappeared into his quarters and had yet to emerge.

Not that she could really blame him. Every muscle in her body burned, including a few dozen she didn't know she had. Every joint ached. Even her _bones_ felt sore, a deep, unreachable throb that couldn't be assuaged. And from the looks of things Shepard's team had had it much worse than she and Alenko.

If you counted being entombed inside a fleshy sac as _better_. From the litany of dead and unconscious colonists waiting for them upon emerging from the thorian's lair, she thought she did.

She should be resting. Had even headed towards the sleeper pods to do exactly that. But her feet had stopped her near his door, and now here she was.

She raised her hand to the door chime, then hesitated._ What if he's asleep?_ He'd looked only marginally better than she felt after returning to the _Normandy_. Goddess knew he needed sleep, too.

He wouldn't be asleep. She knew it as sure as she was breathing. Not after the meld.

Fresh heat rose to her cheeks, and her fingers curled in distaste. _Shiala_. A tool of her mother's, of _Saren_, and yet Shepard had just given her access to what Liara had coveted the moment she'd set foot on board the ship, and in return Shiala given him what Liara had been rescued to help provide. Anger, shame, even jealousy wove a jumbled knot in her stomach, making it impossible to sleep.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to _know. _Shiala had been with her mother. Whatever she had known about her mother's intentions Shepard now knew too, and while she wasn't sure she wanted the truth she couldn't wait any longer to hear it. And the cipher…

The cipher was the key to unlocking some of the prothean mysteries she'd been chasing her entire life, she _knew_ it was, and now that information was swimming around in Shepard's head. A dull, childlike excitement flip flopped in her stomach. Whatever the thorian had known about them, whatever information it had imparted to Shiala and now to Shepard, she wanted to share.

Before she could change her mind she hit the door chime, bit her lip, and waited. _You silly, foolish girl._

The door lock whirred, and she heard his muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

The door slid open and she stepped inside, hands behind her back, fingers fidgeting. The room was dimly lit – purposefully, she guessed – and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She took in the bare walls, the bland furnishings – little more than a bed with a nightstand, desk, table and chairs. Every surface was clean. The bed neatly made.

Shepard stood in the middle of the room, holding a datapad, watching her. She had expected to find him sitting, maybe even lying in bed. At some point he'd managed to get cleaned up – he was back in his Alliance regs, a fresh black bruise spreading down his right arm below his sleeve. His armor, spotless, sat in a corner, folded and ready to be stored. Guiltily she thought of the smeared, dripping hardsuit she'd stuffed in her locker. Later she needed to find a cleaning kit.

"Liara," he said, and she couldn't tell if he was pleased to see her or not. "How are you doing?"

His voice lacked the weariness she expected. In fact she didn't see any evidence of fatigue at all. His expression was attentive, posture relaxed. Even his eyes seemed clear and sharp at first glance, though once she looked closer there was something amiss behind his blue irises.

"I'm…fine," she said, surprised at how easily he threw her off guard.

He laid the datapad on his desk. "What can I do for you?"

And there it was. Just a slight hitch in the tenor of his voice, uncovering the lie his body tried to tell.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

He cocked his head slightly, as though the question hadn't occurred to him before now. "The experience was…not what I was expecting," he said, then offered her a lopsided smile. "Though I don't really know what I _was_ expecting, to be honest."

"The joining can be taxing," she said carefully. "Especially the first time."

Shepard folded his arms across his chest. For a moment he held her gaze, then sighed a little and wandered over to the small table. "Yes," he said after a while.

Liara inhaled a deep breath. "I should go. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have disturbed –"

"Liara," he said, eyes once more finding her face. The kindness she remembered from waking up in the med bay after Therum had returned. "It's all right. I don't mind. You want to know about the cipher. The protheans. Your mother. I understand."

"It can wait," she said, though deep down she was just _begging_ for him to insist that she stay. Her heart skipped a beat when he gestured to a chair by the small table. She sat, wondering if she was imagining the small sigh of relief as he did the same.

"It's all still a little jumbled," he confessed, running a hand over his head and grimacing, glancing at his injured arm in irritation.

"Do you need to have that looked at?" Liara asked, pointing to the bruise.

He offered her a wry smile. "Not if you want to hear about the cipher."

She closed her mouth and he smirked.

"Shiala doesn't know where your mother is," he informed her, and she tried to conceal her disappointment. "Saren was very…deliberate in not revealing his plans. She knew nothing beyond what he wanted on Feros."

"The cipher," Liara supplied.

Shepard nodded.

"What is it?"

He leaned back in his chair, started to reach his arms behind his head, stopped when his shoulder protested, and dropped them in his lap instead. His eyes drifted away from her again, jaw working, and she realized that he didn't know how to answer her. It was a position she got the feeling he wasn't used to being in.

"It's a key," he said at last. "Or at least I think it is. The thorian was here on Feros long before the protheans showed up." He shuddered. "To be that old, that…_lonely._"

"I've never heard of a species with that kind of lifespan," Liara said, leaning her elbows on the table.

"It lived in cycles," he explained. "Periods of activity followed by a long dormant phase. It doesn't know the reapers. I think it…slept through them. Woke up to find the protheans were just gone."

She almost spoke, but the way he scowled at the table, lost inside his own thoughts, kept her silent. His mouth quirked, gaze focused but unseeing as he looked for a way to string together what he wanted to say. She waited.

"It didn't live with the protheans but rather…sort of around them, I think. It watched them. When the opportunity arose it _absorbed _them." He looked up at her, blue eyes sharp as crystal. "Just like it was going to do with you, Alenko and Shiala. Once it finished with her."

Now it was Liara's turn to shudder. Her thoughts raced back to that dark, damp cocoon the thorian had imprisoned her inside and the brooding thoughts that had smothered her in there.

Shepard's gaze wandered again. "I don't really understand what the thorian was or how it worked. But whatever it took from the protheans is…part of it somehow. Their essence, memories…like some kind of eidetic ancestral memory."

Understanding dawned on her. "Prothean beacons were designed for prothean physiology. They directly interface with the user's mind…and because we don't share their neural patterning, we don't understand."

Shepard nodded. "The cipher imprints the necessary pathways to decipher the message, so to speak."

"Incredible," she breathed, feeling a new surge of excitement. "Did it work? Do the images you saw make more sense to you?"

He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. She said it would take time. I've got so much prothean, asari and thorian…_things _floating around in my head right now I have no idea which is which. I have no context for any of it." He huffed a disgruntled breath, brow furrowed. "I miss the days when it was just me in here."

She tilted her head slightly, taking in the agitated tremor in his hand when he set it on the table. There was a wry smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "I hadn't thought of it like that," she said softly. "It must be overwhelming."

"It's not allowed to be," he snapped, hand curling into a fist. "We have to stop him. Nothing else matters."

She tilted her head, heart beating a little faster. "I don't know much about the thorian, but when it comes to asari and protheans, I have a fair amount of experience. As you pointed out, I'm…older than I look."

He raised his eyes to hers, and she leaned forward in her seat, offering him a small smile. "Let me help."

The look he gave her was wary, his uncanny gaze burning a hole right through her. Her confidence wavered. _Your timing could_ not_ be worse,_ she scolded herself. The last thing a person like Shepard was going to want to do after exposing himself in a meld to a stranger was to immediately do it again. But she knew he would. If it would bring him closer to his goal, he would. He was too driven not to.

And as uncomfortable as the thought made her, she was pretty sure that's why she was suggesting it. Because he couldn't say no.

"Very well," he said at last, his voice soft, almost defeated. "If you think it will help us find him." He got reluctantly to his feet. She did the same, approaching him with her heart hammering in her ears.

"Relax, Commander," she said softly, reaching her hand towards him. To her surprise he reached up and caught it, his grip exuding intense warmth against her cool skin. A sharp thrill raced through her. They were inches apart, close enough to smell the soap from his shower and see a small scar above his lip she hadn't noticed before.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice filling her with dread. "It's…a lot to take in."

"I'm sure," she said, suddenly finding it hard to even breathe. Reluctantly he let go, allowing her to place her hand against his cheek. Her nerves began to sing, buzzing as they sensed the vibrant hum under his skin.

"_Embrace eternity," _she whispered. Her eyes locked to his. The world around her dimmed, bleeding away as a powerful current sprang to life between them, locking their minds together in a sizzling collision of consciousness.

* * *

_The first thing she feels is the crushing loneliness. Shepard is right. The thorian is old, so old she fears that trying to comprehend it might destroy her. There is cold, there is emptiness, there is rage it has nursed for centuries. Abandonment, pain, arrogance, domination…so strong and potent it drags her down into a violent vortex she cannot resist. _

_But he is there, and takes her hand. _

_Even here, in the depths of his mind where he is most exposed, there is a sense of invulnerability to him that astounds her. _

_She can feel them, the protheans, the people she has reached out and tried to touch her entire life. They discover, they dream, they explore, build. Feros, once green, wide and empty becomes a hive of strength, height, dominance over the elements, a tribute to pride. They know not of the thorian, even though it watches, waits, unimpressed by their might. The first time they stumble upon it she can feel its greed as it reaches out to take them, steal their very being to be part of its own. It is hungry for something new after centuries of solitude and seclusion. They resist, violently and in vain. But even behind the filaments of their terror is a sense of wonder and awe. Terrible as the thorian is, there is something alluring about it. A sense of immortality as they become one with its flesh. _

_Shepard is repulsed by this cannibalism, even though the cipher is its fruit. The collective experience of a dead race, sitting like a key in a lock, Shiala's guiding hand ready to twist._

_Liara reaches out, eager to unlock it, but Shepard stops her. Look, he says. Listen. So Liara does. She can feel Shiala, the audacity she bears that is born of Saren and_

_ (Benezia) _

_that drives her to enter the thorian willingly. For the first time Liara becomes aware of something that terrifies her, some fundamental wrongness about the asari, like a disease spreading slowly, undetected and unchecked._

_Shiala's mind is not her own. _

_There are whispers in it, like talons scraping at her ear, gnawing at her thoughts, deluding her to believe they are her own. They echo the words of Saren in her ears, sickly, overpowering doctrines of madness, but to Shiala they are absolute, unassailable._

_Do you hear it? Shepard asks. _

_Yes, she replies. _

_ Don't listen. _

_ He is beside her, warm and reassuring, and she surrounds herself with him. She can shut out the whispers if she tries. But she knows now her mother did not._

_(could not?) _

Mother_, _how did this happen?

_(Benezia…lost her way_)

_Liara can see that here, can feel it in ways that make her skin crawl. Shiala worships her mother, the mother that Liara knows, who is strong, beautiful, indomitable. Her unwavering faith is what led her down into this darkness, this hell that gifted her so gladly to the thorian's embrace. _

_Through Shiala's imprint she glimpses Saren's fierce will, discovers her mother's wish to temper it, assert her influence and guide him to safe paths. But Liara understands her mother better than Shiala does, reads between the lines that she cannot. Her mother's intentions seem pure, noble perhaps, but underneath them she hopes to sap some of his power along the way and wield it herself. _

_She has failed. _

_Those whispers…_

_She teeters on the brink of falling, succumbing to that horrible murmur, but again Shepard is there and pulls her to safety. _

_Your mother didn't know, he tells her. She didn't understand until it was too late. _

_Too late. Maybe it isn't too late. Maybe they can still stop her. Pull her back from the abyss, wash her clean of Saren's taint. _

_Shepard doubts. He tries to hide it, but she feels it. There is so much she can see and feel here. _

_In desperation she throws open a floodgate of memories, desperate to show him that Benezia is not a monster. She is not evil. The current is so swift for a moment they are both swept off their feet. _

_She is a child, seated at her mother's feet, playing with the hem of her dress as she speaks with matriarchs and priestesses. Late at night she sneaks into her mother's room and pilfers her elegant headdress, donning it proudly but crookedly on her head as she roams her bedroom, imitating her mother with sweeping gestures of her arms as she imparts her wisdom to the play dolls arranged in a line on her bed. _

_Now they stand in the temple of Athame, Liara's hands pressed flat against the glass of the display cases, standing on tiptoes as she listens to her mother tell her stories about the artifacts. She can feel her mother's smile through her fingers as they stroke the top of her head, an affectionate gesture usually reserved for the privacy of their home. _

_They walk through the gardens surrounding their estate in Serrice, her small hand clasped in her mother's firm grip, smelling the fresh scent of alstromeria in bloom. Her mother hums, a soothing melody Liara has never forgotten, the only one she ever learned on the piano Benezia tried so hard to make her play. She thinks even the birds are jealous. _

_I'm sorry, she feels Shepard say, and somehow his pity is worse than everything that has happened to bring them here._

_She slams the door on her memories, and once again she is surrounded by crushing confusion, a hurricane of half understood thoughts. He has shown her the thorian, shown her Shiala, but he has barred the door to what she really came here to see. _

_You have to let me in, she tells him. I can help you. I have to see. _

_She feels his hesitation…or is it apprehension? _

_Then she understands. If he opens the door, he fears he won't be able to close it again. _

_She caresses his mind, a touch so much deeper than mere physical contact, and he curls into it. For a moment – just a moment – he weakens, weariness surging to the forefront, and she catches a glimpse of what lies behind those powerful eyes._

_He is at home on the battlefield, but here, inside the trappings of his own consciousness, she is the warrior. _

_I'm here, she whispers, drawing him tighter. We will close it together. _

_He opens the floodgates, and she screams. _


End file.
